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Chapter Text

The Potters’ Liberation

Chapter 1

Harry Potter was snoring loudly. He had been sitting in a chair beside his bedroom window for the best part of four hours, staring out at the darkening street, and had finally fallen asleep with one side of his face pressed against the cold windowpane, his glasses askew and his mouth wide open. His twin brother, James Potter, slept in their only bed that they’ve shared since moving into the room from the cupboard at age eleven.

The room was strewn with various possessions and a good smattering of rubbish. Owl feathers, apple cores, and sweet wrappers littered the floor, a number of spellbooks lay higgledy-piggledy among the tangled robes on their bed around Jamie’s body, and amess of newspapers sat in a puddle of light on their desk. The headline of one blared:

POTTER TWINS: THE CHOSEN ONES?

Rumors continue to fly about the mysterious recent disturbance at the Ministry of Magic, during which He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was sighted once more.

“We’re not allowed to talk about it, don’t ask me anything,” said one agitated Obliviator, who refused to give his name as he left the Ministry last night.

Nevertheless, highly placed sources within the Ministry have confirmed that the disturbance centered on the fabled Hall of Prophecy.

Though Ministry spokeswizards have hitherto refused even to confirm the existence of such a place, a growing number of the Wizarding community believe that the Death Eaters now serving sentences in Azkaban for trespass and attempted theft were attempting to steal a prophecy. The nature of that prophecy is unknown, although speculations is rifle that it concerns the Potter Twins, Harry and James Potter, the only two people known to have survived the Killing Curse, and who are also known to have been at the Ministry on the night in question. Some are going to far as to call the Potter twins “the Chosen Ones,” believing that the prophecy names them as the only ones who will be able to rid us of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

The current whereabouts of the prophecy, if it exists, are unknown, although (ctd. Page 2, column 5)

Two large trunks stood in the very middle of the room. Their lids were open’ they looked expectant; yet they were both almost empty but for a residue of old underwear, sweets, empty ink bottles, and broken quills that coated the very bottom. Harry grunted in his sleep and his face slid down the window an inch or so but he didn’t wake up. Next to him was a letter that arrived three days ago which both twins read multiple times.

Dear James and Harry,

If it is convenient to you, I shall call at number four, Private Drive this coming Friday at eleven P.M. to escort you to the Burrow where you both have been invited to spend the remainder of your school holiday.

If you are agreeable, I should also be glad of your assistances in a matter to which I hope to attend on the way to the Burrow. I shall explain this more fully when I see you both.

Kindly send your answer by return of this owl. Hoping to see you this Friday,

I am, yours most sincerely,

Albus Dumbledore

Harry grunted again and moved further down the window. This time his grunt woke up his twin who groaned as he sat up. Though twins Harry and James barely looked alike, even though they both hold a scar in the shape of a lightning bolt obtained from the night Voldemort killed their parents. James Potter was taller than Harry, much taller. He stood almost six foot two, overshadowing even their best friend Ron, and he had a more muscular body than Harry’s thin average one. James had fully developed pecs that lead to a defined six pack that had a long thing treasure trail of black hair leading to the boxers he was wearing. His arms had biceps half the size of Harry’s head and he could lift Harry with ease, which James does often. With his shaggy black hair and dark eyes hidden by glasses James looked to be an Adonis brought to life, a feast for the eyes for both girls and boys.

“Harry, why are you sleeping like that?” He asked, his voice deep and commanding. “Harry?” He placed a strong hand on Harry’s shoulder and lightly shook his brother.

“What you want James?” Harry slurred looking up at James.

James chuckled and pulled Harry into his arms. “Come on little brother, you need to wake up. That or at least sleep in our bed.”

“Dumbledore’s coming later… looking for him,” Harry slurred again.

James chuckled and kissed Harry’s forehead. “Yes, later… which means that you need to sleep now. Come on Harry.”

“Okay,” Harry sighed. He let his brother lead him to their bed and pull the covers open for him. It was a tight fit but they were used to sleeping in the same bed and liked it. It was comforting having their brother in their arms, heads pressed against each other as they shield each other from the world outside. Which is the position the room found them in five minutes later the only sound was their snoring and the ticking of an alarm clock.

The boys did not pack, it just seemed too good to be true that they were going to be rescued from the Dursleys after a mere fortnight of their company. Dudley did not even get a proper chance to punch Harry yet. Harry could not shrug off the feeling that something was going to go wrong—their reply to Dumbledore’s letter might have gone astray; Dumbledore could be prevented from collecting him; the letter might turn out not to be from Dumbledore at all, but a trick or joke or trap. Harry had not been able to face packing and then being let down and having to unpack again. The only gesture he had made to the possibility of a journey was to shut their snowy owl, Hedwig, safely in her cage.

The minute hand on the alarm clock reached the number twelve and, at that precise moment, the streetlamp outside the window went out.

Both boys awoke as though the sudden darkness were an alarm. Harry hastily grabbed his glasses and practically fell out of the bed as he ran to stick his nose against the window and squinted down at the pavement. A tall figure in a long, billowing cloak was walking up the garden path.

“It’s him!” Harry practically screamed as his brother started snatching anything and everything within reach from the floor and throwing it into the trunks. Harry turned to help James lob sets of robes, spellbooks, and packets of crisps across the room and the doorbell rang. Downstairs in the living room their Uncle Vernon shouted, “Who the blazes is calling at this time of night?”

Harry froze with a brass telescope in one hand and a pair of trainers in the other and looked at James. “Did you—“

“No, I thought you did…”

They stared at each other both horrified and extremely amused for a moment. James ran to get something decent on his body. They both clambered over the trunk and James wrenched open their bedroom door in time to hear a deep voice say, “Good evening. You must be Mr. Dursley. I daresay James and Harry has told you I would be coming for them?”

The boys ran down the stairs two at a time, coming to an abrupt halt several steps from the bottom, as long experience had taught them to remain out of arm’s reach of his uncle whenever possible. There in the doorway stood a tall, thin man with waist-length silver hair and beard. Half-moon spectacles were perched on his crooked nose, and he was wearing a long black traveling cloak and a pointed hat. “Judging by your look of stunned disbelief, Harry and James did not warn you that I was coming,” Dumbledore said pleasantly. “However, let us assume that you have invited me warmly into your house. It is unwise to linger overlong on doorsteps in these troubled times.”

He stepped smartly over the threshold and closed the front door behind him. James turned to Harry and said, “Go finish packing up, I’ll deal with our relatives.”

“Aright,” Harry said all too happy to turn around and getting as far away from his aunt and uncle as possible. He could hear Uncle Vernon’s loud voice yelling through the house as he reached the top of the stairs every now and then. Returning to the safety of their room, Harry looked at both set of open trunks and the mess around it. Underwear, robes, shirts, pants, and all assortments of unmentionable clothing that James brought for them laid scattered around the room tangled in bunches that would be horrible to explain to Mrs. Weasley if she ever saw the mess. Harry picked up the most embarrassing articles of clothing and folded them as small as he could and placed them at the bottom of his trunk before covering them quickly with his socks and underwear. Harry somehow gathered all the muggle weights and magical weights that James collected and shrunk them with a Diminuendo Charm before placing them in a corner of James’s trunk. He managed to extract their Invisibility Cloak from under the bed, screwed the top back on his and James’ jars of color-change ink, and forced the lid of James’ trunk shut on his cauldron before spending ten minutes looking for his (It was being used as a waste basket near the desk). It took Harry nearly half an hour to have everything packed and ready. Then, doing his best to balance two trunks and Hedwig’s cage, he made his way back downstairs.

The feeling downstairs was tense. James was sitting awkwardly in his chair as Dumbledore talked to the Dursleys who were sitting in their sofa. Harry tried to move quietly so that they didn’t see or realize his invasion.

“—This magic will cease to operate the moment James and Harry turn seventeen’ in other words, at the moment they become men. I ask only that you allow James and Harry to return, once more, to this house, before his seventeenth birthday, which will ensure that the protection continues until that time. Ahh Harry, so good of you to join us. And you already have your trunks. Excellent.”

None of the Dursleys said anything. Dudley was frowning slightly, Uncle Vernon looked as though he had something stuck in his throat, Aunt Petunia, however, looked slightly flushed. James stood quickly and made his way to Harry, taking his trunk. “I’ll explain in a bit,” he whispered in Harry’s ear. Harry flushed and nodded.

“Well Harry, James… time for us to be off,” Dumbledore said at last, standing up and straightening his long black cloak. “Until we meet again,” he said to the Dursleys, who looked as though that moment could wait forever as far as they were concerned, and after doffing his hat, he swept from the room.

James took Hedwig’s cage from Harry and they both looked at the Dursleys and hesitated before saying “…Bye.”

“Place your trunks on the sidewalk, please,” Dumbledore instructed the twins once they left the front door. James and Harry did so, James placing Hedwig’s cage on top of them. “We do not want to be encumbered by these just now,” he said pulling out his wand. “I shall send them to the Burrow to await us there. However, I would like you two to bring your Invisibility Cloak … just in case.”

Harry extracted the cloak from James’ trunk with some difficulty, trying not to show Dumbledore the mess within. When he had stuffed it into an inside pocket of his jacket, Dumbledore waved his wand and the trunk, cage, and Hedwig vanished. “Now I believe you wanted to catch your brother up James?” Dumbledore chuckled. “We have a bit of a ways to walk.”

James nodded and looked at Harry. “Before we go to the Burrow we’re going to help Dumbledore with a matter of something or other, like he said in the letter. Umm… Sirius’s will has been found and we… he left everything to us. The house, money, Buckbeak—err Witherwings… and Kreacher.” James said cautiously frowning at the sadden expression on his little brother’s face. “I decided to give the house to the Order of Phoenix, it’s either that or let Bellatrix Lestrange have it and we both don’t want that, Kreacher’s going to work at the Hogwarts kitchens with Dobby and Witherwings is going back to Hagrid.”

“He’ll be very happy with that,” Harry said smiling.

“That he will,” James nodded. He glanced at Dumbledore who was walking ahead of them and leaned towards Harry “Did you pack your journals?” he asked.

“I did. I have all of them in my trunk,” Harry said.

“Good,” James sighed. “And my weights?”

“Muggle-made and wizard-made,” Harry said slightly annoyed. “I swear you and Ron are a bit obsessed with those.”

“Don’t tell me you don’t like the results,” James chuckled.

“I do but still they’re heavy!” Harry whined.

James chuckled again and looked at Dumbledore. “One last thing,” he whispered. “I’m sure you noticed but Dumbledore’s hand… it changed.”

Harry looked at Dumbledore’s hand and wondered how he could have missed it. His hand was blackened and shriveled’ it looked as though his flesh had been burned away.

“Sir—what happened to your—“

“Later Harry,” Dumbledore said. “For now, how are your scars… has it been hurting at all?”

Harry raised a hand unconsciously to his forehead and rubbed the lightning-shaped mark, James was doing the same thing.

“No,” James said, “and I’ve been wondering about that, we thought it would be burning all the time now Voldemort’s getting so powerful again.”

They glanced up at Dumbledore and saw that he was wearing a satisfied expression.

“I, on the other hand, thought otherwise,” Dumbledore said. “Lord Voldemort has finally realized the dangerous access to his thoughts and feelings both of you have been enjoying. It appears that he is now employing Occlumency against you.”

“Well I’m not complaining,” James said. “Are you Harry?”

“Nope.”

Dumbledore stopped at the end of Private Drive. “Neither of you have not, of course, passed your Apparition Test,” he said. “So, you will need to hold onto my arm very tightly. My left, if you don’t mind—as you have noticed, my wand arm is a little fragile at the moment.”

Harry gripped Dumbledore’s proffered forearm, James placing his hand over Harry’s with a stronger grip. Harry felt Dumbledore’s arm twist away from him and redoubled his grip’ the next thing he knew, everything went black’ he was being pressed very hard from all directions; he could not breathe, there were iron bands tightening around his chest; his eyeballs were being forced back into his head; his eardrums were being pushed deeper into his skull and then—

He gulped great lungfuls of cold night air and opened his streaming eyes. He felt as though he had just been forced through a very tight rubber tube. He, James, and Dumbledore were now standing in what appeared to be a deserted village square, in the center of which stood an old war memorial and a few benches. His comprehension catching up with his senses, Harry realized that he and James had just Apparated for the first time in their lives.

“Right this way then,” Dumbledore said setting off in a brisk pace. James and Harry looked at each other before following him.

“Sir? Where are we?” James asked.

“A charming little village called Budleigh Babberton.”

“And what are we doing here?” Harry asked.

“Ahh yes I haven’t told either of you,” Dumbledore said. “Well, I have lost count of the number of times I have said this in recent years, but we are, once again, one member of staff short. We are here to persuade an old colleague of mine to come out of retirement and return to Hogwarts. … Oh dear. Oh dear, dear, dear.” Dumbledore stopped suddenly.

Harry and James almost walked into him. They reached a front gate and Harry followed his gaze up the carefully tended front path and felt his heart sink. The front door was hanging off its hinges.

“Wands out and follow me,” Dumbledore said quietly.

He opened the gate and walked swiftly and silently up the garden path, Harry and James at his heels.

“Lumos.”

Dumbledore’s wand tip ignited, casting its light up a narrow hallway. To the left, another door stood open. Holding his illuminated wand aloft, Dumbledore walked into the sitting room.

The room was utterly destroyed: a grandfather clock lay splintered at their feet; a piano was on its side its keys strewn across the floor; a fallen chandelier glittered nearby; cushions slashed open their feathers oozing from their sides; fragments of glass and china lay like powder over everything. Dumbledore raised his wand even higher, so that its light was thrown upon the walls, where something darkly red and glutinous was spattered over the wallpaper. Harry’s small intake of breath made Dumbledore look around.

“Not pretty, is it?” he said heavily. “Yes, something horrible has happened here.”

James looked at the wallpaper and took a step closer to it. Harry watched as his brother stared at the darkly red substance, his wand held close to it as he frowned. “James,” Harry hissed. “What are you doing?”

“This ain’t blood,” James said looking at Harry and Dumbledore. “I mean it’s blood but it’s not human’s.”

“Really?” Dumbledore said quietly, peering behind an overstuffed armchair lying on its side. “And what do you suppose it is?”

“Dragon’s blood,” James said. “Charlie gave me a vial of it for Christmas last year!”

“Interesting,” Dumbledore said. And without warning, Dumbledore swooped, plunging the tip of his wand into the seat of the overstuffed armchair, which yelled, “Ouch!”

“Good evening, Horace,” Dumbledore said, straightening up again.

Where a split second before there had been an armchair, there now crouched an enormously fat, bald, old man who was massaging his lower belly and squinting up at Dumbledore with an aggrieved and watery eye.

“There was no need to stick the wand in that hard,” he said gruffly, clambering to his feet. It hurt.”

“Would you like my assistance clearing up?” Dumbledore asked politely.

“Please,” said the other.

James and Harry reunited in the center of the room as the two old wizards stood back to back and waved their wands in one identical sweeping motion. “Please tell me you didn’t get any of that stuff on you,” Harry groaned at his brother.

“What? The dragon’s blood? No… but I would love to at least take a little of it,” James chuckled. Harry glared at him and the older twin said “What? That is an incredibly rare ingredient Harry. Charlie almost lost an arm getting it for me.”

“By the sound of it you would have drank it all,” Harry muttered. “That or find some way to mix it into a cup of pumpkin juice.”

“I would never,” James said. “Just because you’re ruddy at potions doesn’t mean you have to be jealous of my natural abilities Harry.”

“Dick.”

“You still love me.”

“Unfortunately,” Harry sighed.

The wizard set a bottle on the sideboard and sighed. It was then that his gaze fell upon Harry and James.

“Oho,” he said, his large round eyes flying to their foreheads and the lightning-shaped scars they bore. “Oho!”

“These,” Dumbledore said, moving forward to make the introductions, “are James and Harry Potter. James, Harry, this is an old friend and colleague of mine, Horace Slughorn.”

Slughorn turned to Dumbledore, his expression shrewd. “So that’s how you thought you’d persuade me, is it? Well, the answer’s no, Albus.”

He pushed past Harry and James, his face turned resolutely away with the air of a man trying to resist temptation.

“I suppose we can have a drink, at least?” Dumbledore asked. “For old time’s sake?”

Slughorn hesitated. “All right then, one drink,” he said ungraciously.

Dumbledore smiled at the twins and directed them toward a chair not unlike the one that Slughorn had so recently impersonated, which stood right beside the newly burning fire and a brightly glowing oil lamp. Harry took the seat with the distinct impression that Dumbledore, for some reason, wanted to keep him as visible as possible. Harry and James kept to themselves as the two old wizards talked with each other.

“Why do you think he wanted us to be here?” James asked.

“I don’t know,” Harry whispered, “but something must be wrong if this is the welcoming we received.”

“True,” James said. “But at least after this we’ll be at the Burrow again, and we can eat all of Mrs. Weasley’s food.”

“I hear you,” Harry said. “I’m starving. Especially since some lout decided to eat all of the Cauldron Cakes I’ve hid.” He threw a light glare at his brother.

“I’m a growing man Harry,” James smirked. “Besides I have to be strong to protect my little brother.”

“By stealing my food? You know the Dursleys barely feed us,” Harry said.

“Couldn’t resist love,” James shrugged, smirking at Harry’s attempt at an angry glare. “Don’t look at me like that, it makes me think you don’t love me.”

“You know I do, I just hate it when you steal my only food. That was supposed to last me for weeks!” Harry hissed.

“At least we’re heading to the Burrow so it all worked out,” James said. “Besides do you really think I would let you stare? You know I would have stolen food from Dudley if I needed to.”

“I know,” Harry sighed. He turned his attention to Dumbledore and Slughorn who were still talking.

“—Umbridge ran afoul of our centaur head,” Dumbledore said. “I think you, Horace, would have known better than to stride into the forest and call a hoard of angry centaurs ‘filthy half-breeds.’”

“That’s what she did, did she?” Slughorn said. “Idiotic woman. Never liked her.”

Harry and James chuckled and both Dumbledore and Slughorn looked around at them.

“Sorry,” James said. “It’s just—we didn’t like her either.”

Dumbledore stood up rather suddenly. “Are you leaving? Slughorn asked at once, looking hopeful.

“No, I was wondering whether I might use your bathroom,” Dumbledore said.

“Oh,” Slughorn said, clearly disappointed. “Second on the left down the hall.”

Dumbledore strode from the room. Once the door had closed behind him, there was silence. After a few moments, Slughorn got to his feet but seemed uncertain what to do with himself. He shot a furtive look at the twins, then crossed to the fire and turned his back on it, warming his wide behind.

“Don’t think I don’t know why he’s brought you two,” he said abruptly.

Harry merely looked at Slughorn. Slughorn’s watery eyes slid over Harry’s scar, this time taking in the rest of his face.

“You two look very like your father.”

“Yeah, we’ve been told,” James said.

“Except you got your—“

“Mother’s eyes, yeah,” Harry had heard it so often he found it a bit wearing.

“Hmpf. Yes, well. You shouldn’t have favorites as a teacher, of course, but she was one of mine. Your mother,” Slughorn added, in answer to Harry’s questioning look. “Lily Evens. One of the brightest I ever taught. Vivacious, you know. Charming girl. I used to tell her she ought to have been in my House. Very cheeky answers I used to get back too. However… is it true that one of you have fought a Basilisk in Hogwarts? I’ve heard so many tales in the paper. Finding the Philosopher’s Stone, fighting Basilisks, entering into the Triwizard Tournament and now this situation with the Department of Mysteries.”

“That was me,” Harry said. “I fought the Basilisk… James was in the Triwizard Tournament…” Harry looked over at his brother for help. James just nodded and frowned. “We were both in the Ministry of Magic that night,” he said. “And the stone was both of us as well…”

“I see,” Slughorn hummed. He looked at the set of photographs on the wall and said “All ex-students of mine, all signed. You’ll notice Barnabas Cuffe, editor of the Daily Prophet, he’s always interested to hear my take on the day’s news. And Ambrosius Flume, of Honeydukes—a hamper every birthday, and all because I was able to give him an introduction to Ciceron Harkiss, who gave him his first job! And at the back—you’ll see her if you just crane your neck—that’s Gwenog Jones, who of course captains the Holyheads Harpies. …People are always astonished to hear I’m on first-name terms with the Harpies and free tickets whenever I want them!”

The thought seemed to cheer Slughorn up.

“You know… you don’t have to join the Order to teach at Hogwarts,” Harry said. “Most of the teachers aren’t in it, and none of them has ever been killed—well, unless you count Quirrell, and he got what he deserved seeing as he was working with Voldemort!”

Harry had been sure Slughorn would be one of those wizards who could not bear to hear Voldemort’s name spoken aloud and was not disappointed: Slughorn gave a shudder and a squawk of protest, which caused James to snicker.

“The staff are probably safer than most people while Dumbledore’s headmaster’ he’s supposed to be the only one Voldemort ever feared, isn’t he?” Harry went on.

“My twin’s right,” James said.

“Well, yes, it is true that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has never sought a fight with Dumbledore,” Slughorn muttered grudgingly.

Dumbledore reentered the room and Slughorn jumped as though he had forgotten he was in the house. The two began to talk again and Harry barely noticed as James stood and examined the multiple photographs again, staring intensely at two of the photographs in particular.

“Well, I’m sorry you don’t want the job, Horace,” Dumbledore said, raising his uninjured hand in a farewell gesture. “Hogwarts would have been glad to see you back again. Our greatly increased security notwithstanding, you will always be welcome to visit, should you wish to.”

“Yes …. Well ….very gracious…. As I say …”

“Good bye, then.”

“Bye,” Harry and James said. They were at the front door when there was a shout from behind them.

“All right, all right, I’ll do it!”

Dumbledore turned to see Slughorn standing breathless in the doorway to the sitting room.

“You will come out of retirement?”

“Yes, yes,” Slughorn said impatiently. I must be mad, but yes.”

“Wonderful,” Dumbledore said beaming. “Then, Horace, we shall see you on the first of September.”

They left the house and set off down the garden path. Turning the corner Dumbledore looked at both of them and said “Well done Harry, James.”

He instructed the boys to grasp his forearm again and Harry felt his brother’s tight warm grasp on his hand again before the tight claustrophobic sensation of Apparition. When he regained the ability to breathe again Harry saw that they were standing in a country lane looking ahead to the crooked silhouette of the Burrow. Harry’s spirits lifted when he saw it. Ron was there! And so was Mrs. Weasley, who could cook better than anyone he knew…

“If you don’t mind, boys,” Dumbledore said, as they passed through the gate, “I’d like a few words with you two before we part. In private. Perhaps in here?”

Dumbledore pointed toward a run-down stone outhouse where the Weasleys kept their broomsticks. Puzzled the boys followed Dumbledore, Harry glancing at James who kept patting his pocket. “What are you doing?” he whispered.

“I’ll show you when we’re inside,” James said with a grin on his face. Harry blushed but nodded. In the broom closet Dumbledore smiled down at the books. “I hope you will forgive me for mentioning it, Harry, James, but I am pleased and a little proud at how well you seem to be coping after everything that happened at the Ministry. Permit me to say that I think Sirius would have been proud of you both.”

Harry swallowed; his voice seemed to have deserted him as his mind went back to every night since that event. He remembered every night he couldn’t breathe, tears kept flowing from his eyes as a depressing sadness choked him night after night. He only found comfort from his brother’s touches and kisses, his brother’s lips on his cheeks and forehead as they held onto each other. Harry felt his brother’s hand immediately over his own and squeezed it. James has always been Harry’s rock. He couldn’t even begin to imagine his life without his brother.

“Now onto the main reason boys why I want to talk with you,” Dumbledore said. Harry looked up in shock. He barely realized that Dumbledore and James have been talking for five minutes. “It is my wish that you both take private lessons with me this year.”

“Private—with you?” Harry asked speaking for the first time.

“Yes, I think it is time that I took a greater hand in your educations.”

“What will you be teaching us, sir?” James asked.

“Oh, a little this, a little that,” Dumbledore said airily. “Now before we part boys, just two things. Firstly, I wish you keep the Invisibility Cloak with you at all times from this moment onward. Even within Hogwarts itself. Just in case, you understand me? Always stick together boys. We are in more dangerous times than I have imagined. Secondly, while you stay here, the Burrow has been given the highest security the Ministry of Magic can provide. These measures have caused a certain amount of inconveniences to Arthur and Molly—al their post, for instance, is being searched at the Ministry before being sent on. They do not mind in the slightest, for their only concern is your safety. However, it would be poor repayment if you risked your necks while staying with them.”

“We understand,” James said.

“Very well, then,” Dumbledore said, pushing open the broom shed door and stepping out into the yard. “I see a light in the kitchen. Let us not deprive Molly any longer of the chance to deplore how thin you are Harry.”

They followed Dumbledore and Harry looked at James as he ruffled through his pocket and pulled out two photographs. “Took these from Slughorn,” James smiled. “It’s mum…”

Harry looked at the first photograph in James’s hand. His eyes went as big as saucers when he saw James was right. It was a picture of Slughorn and a few students and there, next to Slughorn, stood Lily Evens her red hair reaching her shoulders and her green eyes shimmering slightly as she smiled at the camera. “Mum…” Harry said.

“Yeah,” James said. “And this one… I don’t know why I took it, the boy in here… he just called to me. He’s very handsome. Not as cute as you though Harry.” He added a little smirk to fight off his blush.

Harry looked at the photograph and felt his heart drop. Though there were multiple boys in the picture as well as Slughorn himself in the middle, only one person drew the eyes to him. He was a handsome boy with dark eyes and hair. He had a mysterious look on his face, his lips pulled slightly upwards with a smirk that showed he was superior to everyone around him. His arms were at his sides and yet he held all the power in the photograph. Harry’s eyes glanced up at James and then at Dumbledore who was at the door talking with Mrs. Weasley.

James was blushing as Mrs. Weasley ushered them in and closed the door after saying her goodbyes to Dumbledore. She made the twins sit at the table and turned to the stove to fix some food for them. “James,” Harry whispered, his eyes glancing at Mrs. Weasley making sure she wasn’t listening. His voice was fully of worry and fear.

“James, this is Tom Riddle… he’s Voldemort!”

Chapter Text

Chapter 2

“Voldemort,” James said looking down at the picture again. How could a boy that handsome, a boy who looked as if his eyes would go straight to a boy’s heart, turn so evil… and disgusting. “Harry how do you know this?” he whispered.

“Remember second year?” Harry asked turning fully to James. Mrs. Weasley tipped her wand on a boiling pot; it rose into the air, flew towards the twins, and tipped over; Mrs. Weasley slid two bowls neatly beneath it just in time to catch the stream of thick, steaming onion soup.

“Bread, dears?”

“Thanks, Mrs. Weasley,” the Potter twins said simultaneously.

She waved her wand over her shoulder, a loaf of bread and a knife soared gracefully onto the table; as the loaf sliced itself and the soup pot dropped back onto the stove, Mrs. Weasley sat down opposite them.

‘Later,’ Harry mouthed to James.

“So you two persuaded Horace Slughorn to take the job?”

The boys nodded, their mouths so full of hot soup that they could not speak.

“He taught Arthur and me,” Mrs. Weasley said. “he was at Hogwarts for ages, started around the same time as Dumbledore, I think. Did you like him?”

The twins looked at each other for a moment before shrugging; Harry gave a noncommittal jerk of the head.

“I know what you mean,” Mrs. Weasley said, nodding wisely. “Of course he can be charming when he wants to be, but Arthur’s never liked him much. The Ministry’s littered with Slughorn’s old favorites, he was always good at giving leg ups, but he never had much time for Arthur—didn’t seem to think he was enough of a highflier. Well, that just shows you, even Slughorn makes mistakes, I don’t know whether Ron’s told you in any of his letters—it’s only just happened—but Arthur’s been promoted!”

“That’s great!” Harry said swallowing.

“You are sweet,” Mrs. Weasley beamed. “Yes, Rufus Scrimgeour has set up several new offices in response to the present situation, and Arthur’s heading the Office for the Detection and Confiscation of Counterfeit Defensive Spells and Protective Objects. It’s a big job, he’s got ten people reporting to him now!”

“Who’s Scrimgeour?” James asked sheepishly, looking at Harry.

Harry just stared at him. “Are you daft? When was the last time you even picked up the Prophet?” he asked. James’s sheepish smile just grew and Harry sighed. “He’s our new Minister of Magic now that Fudge stepped down.”

“Oh… you could have just said that,” James shrugged. “Is Mr. Weasley still at work?” he asked Mrs. Weasley.

“Yes, he is. As a matter of fact, he’s a tiny bit late. …He said he’d be back around midnight. …”

She turned to look at a large clock that was perched awkwardly on top of a pile of sheets in the washing basket at the end of the table. Harry recognized it at once: it had nine hands, each inscribed with the name of a family member, and usually hung on the Weasley’s sitting room wall, though its current position suggested that Mrs. Weasley had taken to carrying it around the house with her. Every single one of its nine hands were now pointing at “mortal peril.”

“It’s been like that for a while now,” Mrs. Weasley said, in an unconvincingly casual voice, “ever since You-Know-Who came back into the open. I suppose everyone’s in mortal danger now. …I don’t think it can be just our family …but I don’t know anyone else who’s got a clock like this, so I can’t check. Oh!”

With a sudden exclamation she pointed at the clock’s face. Mr. Weasley’s hand had switched to “traveling.”

“He’s coming!”

And sure enough, a moment later there was a knock on the back door. Mrs. Weasley jumped up and hurried to it; with one hand on the doorknob and her face pressed against the wood she called softly, “Arthur, is that you?”

“Yes,” came Mr. Weasley’s weary voice. “But I would say that even if I were a Death Eater, dear. Ask the question!”

Harry and James looked at each other and decided to ignore the Weasley parents as they leaned towards each other. “You know the questions thing are silly right?” James whispered.

“I don’t know, I can think of a lot of things that only I know about you,” Harry smirked earning him a poke in the head. “Ow! Listen I’m still shocked at you for the picture you know.”

“There is no way that he is Voldemort,” James whispered. “He’s so handsome in this picture and Voldemort… well let’s just say that he’s not getting anybody up anytime soon.”

Harry chuckled and looked at the door. Mrs. Weasley’s face turned bright red from whatever question Mr. Weasley asked him. “It is true though,” Harry whispered quickly. “As soon as we can I’ll explain it. Besides, it’s in my journal.”

“Ah yes your journals,” James muttered. “It’s like you’re writing your life story in there.”

“They… help me,” Harry said vaguely as Mrs. Weasley opened the door to reveal her husband.

“I still don’t see why we have to go through that every time you come home,” Mrs. Weasley said, still pink in the face as she helped her husband out of his cloak. “I mean, a Death Eater might have forced the answer out of you before impersonating you!”

“I know, dear, but it’s Ministry procedure, and I have to set an example. Something smells good—onion soup?”

Mr. Weasley turned hopefully in the direction of the table.

“Hello boys! We didn’t expect you two until morning!”

They shook hands, and Mr. Weasley dropped into the chair beside James as Mrs. Weasley set a bowl of soup in front of him too.

“Thanks, Molly. It’s been a tough night. Some idiot’s started selling Metamorph-Medals. Just sling them around your neck and you’ll be able to change your appearance at will. A hundred thousand disguises, all for ten Galleons!”

“And what really happens when you put them on?”

“Mostly you just turn a fairly unpleasant orange color and your hands might get smaller, but a couple of people have also sprouted tentaclelike warts all over their bodies. As if St. Mungo’s didn’t have enough to do already!”

“So is that why you’re late, Metamorph-Medals?”

“No, we got wind of a nasty backfiring jinx down in Elephant and Castle, but luckily the Magical Law Enforcement Squad had sorted it out by the time we got there. …”

Harry stifled a yawn behind his hand.

“Bed,” said an undeceived Mrs. Weasley at once. “I’ve got Fred and George’s room all ready for you two.”

“Why where are they?” James asked.

“Oh, they’re in Diagon Alley, sleeping in the little flat over their joke shop as they’re so busy,” Mrs. Weasley said. “I must say, I didn’t approve at first, but they do seem to have a bit of a flair for business! Come on, dears, your trunks’ already up there. “

The twins said their goodnights, pushing back their chairs.

“G’night Harry, James,” Mr. Weasley said.

Fred and George’s bedroom was on the second floor. Mrs. Weasley pointed her wand at a lamp on the bedside table and it ignited at once, bathing the room in a pleasant golden glow. Though a large vase of flowers had been placed on a desk in front of the small window, their perfume could not disguise the lingering smell of what Harry thought was gunpowder. A considerable amount of floor space was devoted to a vast number of unmarked, sealed cardboard boxes, amongst which stood Harry’s and James’ school trunks. The room looked as though it was being used as a temporary warehouse.

Hedwig hooted happily at the twins from her perch on top of a large wardrobe, then took off trough the window; James knew she had been waiting to see them before going hunting. The boys bade Mrs. Weasley good night and put on their pajamas. James turned to the beds and pushed them together as Harry turned to his trunk and pulled out six journals. They all had a red leather-bound cover with strange runes on all of them. Harry picked one up, undid the strap and let the book open onto an empty page.

“We’re going to get a new journal soon,” Harry sighed as he pulled out his wand.

“Or you can just figure out a way to fit more into one of your journals,” James suggested looking over Harry’s shoulder. “Which one has second year?”

“One second,” Harry said. He placed the tip of his wand to the temple of his forehead and ever so slowly pulled away. A silvery substance came away, stretching from his temple to wand like a thick gossamer strand, which broke as he pulled his wand away from it and it fell gracefully onto the empty pages of the journal. It swelled a little before being absorbed, words appearing and filling out the pages for a brief moment before disappearing, only leaving the day’s date.

Finished with his task, Harry shut the journal and looked towards the others. “That one,” he said pointing to the journal. James took it and opened it up.

“So, explain how my little crush is Voldemort,” he said walking to sit on their bed. Harry joined him, their legs touching as he leaned over closer to James and started flipping pages.

“You remember the diary Ginny had? The one possessed by Voldemort?” Harry asked.

“Yeah, you took a freaky trip in it that one time,” James said.

“And you yelled at me for not including you,” Harry nodded. “Well the diary at the time shown Voldemort as he was when he was sixteen years old… and like you I um… might have gotten a crush,” Harry blushed.

“A crush? But nobody can be me Harry,” James smirked. Harry nodded and kissed James’ cheek. “I know James but still just listen to me. He made me believe his lies… until I saw him again in real life,” Harry said.

He stopped at a page and pressed his wand onto it. The book shone and an image appeared. It was a long dark corridor with statues of snakes on both sides leading up to a tall statue of Salazar Slytherin and a handsome boy standing at Slytherin’s feet smirking at Harry.

“So, this is what the Chamber of Secrets looks like,” James mused. “You snake-charmer, you.”

Harry nodded. “You shouldn’t have gotten stuck with Ron, you missed a real adventure.” He turned the page and the image changed, this time of a blinded Basilisk thrashing wildly as Fawkes the Phoenix flew in the air. “But what’s important is this…” Harry said. With a tap of his wand the image changed again.

This time the handsome boy was holding Harry’s wand. In the air he wrote TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE. With a swipe of his wand the fiery letters moved and rearranged themselves to spell out I AM LORD VOLDEMORT. “It was a name he made himself while he was at Hogwarts,” Harry said. “You couldn’t believe how shocked I was when I found out.”

James sighed and pulled out the photo he stole. Staring at it he looked at the image in Harry’s journal again and shook his head. “Damn it Tom,” he cursed. “Why did he have to do that?”

Harry closed the book and shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know… but don’t worry about it. You have me.”

“And that’s all I need,” James said placing the photo down. “Come on Harry, return the books and let’s get to bed.”

“Alright,” Harry said. James watched as his little brother stood up and collected his journals, returning them into his trunk. He turned to James and climbed into bed with him. “Goodnight James,” he said feeling safe being surrounded by his brother’s muscles and heat as James brought him closer. They shared a chaste kiss and Harry buried his head into James’ chest both boys falling asleep.

Seconds later, or so it seemed to Harry, he was awakened by what sounded like cannon fire as the door burst open. Sitting bolt upright, he heard the rasp of the curtains being pulled back: The dazzling sunlight seemed to poke him hard in both eyes. Shielding them with one hand, he groped hopelessly for his and James’ glasses with the other.

“Wuzzgoinon?”

“We didn’t know you guys were here already!” said a loud and excited voice, and James received a sharp blow to the top of the head.

“Ron, don’t hit him!” said a girl’s voice reproachfully.

Harry’s hand found his glasses and he shoved them on, though the light was so bright he could hardly see anyway. A long, looming shadow quivered in front of him for a moment; he blinked and Ron Weasley came into focus, grinning down at him and James.

“All right?”

“Never been better,” James said, rubbing the top of his head and slumping back onto his pillows, taking the glasses Harry handed to him. “You?”

“Not bad,” Ron said, pulling over a cardboard box and sitting on it. “When did you two get here? Mum’s only just told us!”

James looked at Harry. “One in the morning?” He said questioningly, Harry nodding his head in agreement.

“Were the Muggles all right? Did they treat you okay?”

“Same as usual,” James said, as Hermione perched herself on the edge of their bed, “they didn’t talk to us much, but we like it better that way. How’re you, Hermione?”

“Oh, I’m fine,” Hermione said, she was scrutinizing Harry and James as though they were sickening for something. He thought he knew what was behind this, as he had no wish to discuss Sirius’s death or any other miserable subject at the moment, he said, “What’s the time? Did we miss breakfast?”

“Don’t worry about that,” Mum’s bringing you up a tray; she reckons you looked underfed Harry,” Ron said, rolling his eyes.” So what’s been going on?”

“My brother stole my rations,” Harry said automatically, “but other than that nothing.”

“Come off it!” Ron said. “You’ve been off with Dumbledore!”

“It wasn’t anything exciting,” James shrugged. “He just wanted our help persuading this old teacher to come out of retirement.”

“Oh… we thought…” Ron trailed off, looking disappointed.

“We thought it’d be something else,” Hermione finished. She cleared her throat and said “So, er, what’s he like?”

The boys looked at each other. “He has a walrus mustache and was very, very large… not in the good way,” Harry said. “He used to be the Head of Slytherin. Reckon he might get his old job of that?”

“Hermione, what’s the matter?” James asked.

She was watching them as though expecting strange symptoms to manifest themselves at any moment. She rearranged her features hastily in an unconvincing smile.

“No, of course not! So, um, did Slughorn seem like he’ll be a good teacher?”

Ron leaned close to her and whispered loudly, “Twin thing, Fred and George did the same. You get used to it.”

“It’s not that Ron!” Hermione bit. “So guys?” she asked turning back to the twins.

“Dunno,” Harry said. “He can’t be worse than Umbridge, cane he?” He turned to his twin.

“Nobody can be worse than her,” James said.

“I know someone who’s worse than Umbridge,” said a voice from the doorway. Ron’s youngest sister slouched into the room, looking irritable. “Hi, Harry.”

“What’s up with you?” Ron asked.

“It’s her,” Ginny said, “She’s driving me mad.”

“What’s she done now?” Hermione asked sympathetically.

“It’s the way she talks to me—you’d think I was about three!”

Harry and James looked at each other confused and shocked. Harry leaned towards his brother and said “There’s no way they’re talking about Mrs. Weasley!”

“I know,” James nodded. “I’ve never heard Hermione bad-mouthed any Weasleys before. But then I wonder who they’re talking about.”

“I don’t know,” Harry shrugged. “What other females are actually in here?”

“There’s only three and two of them are in this room.”

“But Mrs. Weasley—“

The bedroom door flew open again. A young woman was standing in the doorway, a woman of such breathtaking beauty that the room seemed to have become strangely airless. She was tall and willowy with long blonde hair and appeared to emanate a faint, silvery glow. To complete this vision of perfection, she was carrying a heavily laden breakfast tray which Harry’s and James’ eyes immediately focused on.

“James,” she said in a throaty voice. “Eet ‘as been too long! And your ‘ittle brother ‘Arry’s ‘ere as well!”

As she swept over the threshold towards them, Mrs. Weasley was revealed, bobbing along in her wake, looking rather cross. “There was no need to bring up the ray. I was just about to do it myself!”

“Eet was no trouble,” Fleur Delacour said, setting the tray across James’ knees and then swooping to kiss both twins’ cheeks. “I ‘ave been longing to see ‘im. You remember my seester, Gabrielle? She was in zee water with you brother. She never stops talking about James Potter. She will be delighted to see you again.”

“Oh… is she here too?”

“No, no, silly boy,” Fleur said with a tinkling laugh, “I mean next summer, when we—but do you not know?”

Her great blue eyes widen and she looked reproachfully at Mrs. Weasley, who said, “We hadn’t got around to telling them yet.”

Fleur turned back to the twins, swinging her silvery sheet of hair so that it whipped Mrs. Weasley across the face.

“Bill and I are going to be married!”

“Oh…” the boys said blankly. “Wow… congratulations,” Harry finished.

She swooped down upon him and kissed him again.

“Bill is very busy at ze moment, working very ‘ard, and I only work part-time at Gringotts for my Eenglish, so he brought me ‘ere for a few days to get to know ‘is family properly. I was so pleased to ‘ear you two would be coming—zere isn’t much to do ‘ere unless you like cooking and chickens! Well—enjoy your breakfast, James!”

With these words she turned gracefully and seemed to float out of the room, closing the door behind her.

Mrs. Weasley made a noise that sounded like “tchah!”

“Mum hates her,” Ginny said quietly.

“I do not hate her!” Mrs. Weasley said in a cross whisper. “I just think they’ve hurried into this engagement, that’s all!”

“They’ve known each other a year,” Ron said.

“That’s not very long! I know why it’s happened, of course. It’s all because this uncertainty with You-Know-Who coming back, people think they might be dead tomorrow, so they’re rushing all sorts of things they’d normally take time over. It was the same last time he was powerful, people eloping left, right, and center—“

“Like you and Dad,” Ginny said.

“That was different, your father and I were made for each other, what was the point of waiting?” Mrs. Weasley said. “Whereas Bill and Fluer …well …what have they really got in common?”

Not wanting to be pulled into an argument the twins kept their heads down and started eating their eggs. Soon Mrs. Weasley left closing the door behind her. Ron, Ginny, and Hermione continued to talk, James looking up to input his thoughts here and there while Harry focused on his food. From the scraps he listened to, they were comparing Tonks to Fleur; Ginny really wanted Tonks as a sister-in-law instead of the Frenchwoman.

“Listen,” Ron said, “no block in his right mind’s going to fancy Tonks when Fleur’s around. James, Harry am I right?”

Without missing a beat the twins just looked up at Ron and said “We’re gay.”

“Oh right…” Ron said awkwardly. “Forgot about that… you sure James you ain’t like me?”

“Only boys Ron, only boys,” James said.

“Can we get back on track,” Ginny said. “I’d rather have Tonks in the family. At least she’s a laugh, unlike Phlegm.”

“She hasn’t been much of a laugh lately,” Ron said. “Every time I’ve seen her she’s looked more like Moaning Myrtle.”

“That’s not fair,” Hermione snapped. “She still hasn’t got over what happened …you know … I mean, he was her cousin!”

Harry’s heart sank. They had arrived at Sirius. He picked up a fork and began shoveling scrambled eggs into his mouth, hoping to deflect any invitations to join this part of the conversation. He’d let James handle it as he mentally shut down. He just stared at his eggs as he slowly ate them ignoring everyone around him. James noticed his brother changing and kept a hand on his inner thigh, holding on gently as he took over the conversation. Harry didn’t realize the others were still talking until moments later. Ginny was gone, Hermione somehow got a black eye, and Ron and Hermione was leaving; allowing the boys to get dressed.

“Sorry,” Harry said looking down at his lap.

“Wasn’t much of a conversation anyway,” James shrugged. Harry still looked down so James pushed the trays away and pulled Harry into a hug. “Hey, it’s okay Harry… everyone’s different when it comes to this… it’s okay.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry said again resting his head on his brother’s naked chest.

“Come on, don’t be so sad,” James said. “I’m here aren’t I? We’re never getting separated. Besides, by the looks of Hermione’s scramble our O.W.L. results will be coming today.”

Harry chuckled and looked up. “You just want to gloat when you get an ‘O’ in Potions.”

“Of course I do,” James said lifting Harry bridal style and standing up with ease. Harry wrapped his arms around his brother’s neck. “What’s the point of having a cute younger twin if you can’t gloat at how much better I am then him?” he smirked.

“There’s some other advantages,” Harry said smirking. “You can use him as one of your weights when he locks yours in his chest… also there’s a consistent source to help you in your Transfiguration homework. … Oh and let’s not forget posing in those ridiculous outfits that he’ll never wear outside.”

“You look adorable in those,” James smirked.

“They barely cover anything!”

“And that’s what make them adorable little brother,” James smirked. “Come on let’s get dress.”

Harry sighed and shook his head. “You really need to get a proper boyfriend.”

James stopped and looked down at Harry. He had a slight frown. “Harry,” he said seriously, “do you really think I need a boyfriend? Do you see me with another boy?”

Harry looked at him for a moment before frowning. He couldn’t even begin to imagine his brother holding another boy. Or sleeping in the same bed with him. “No… I don’t,” he said.

“And I don’t with you,” James said. He let Harry stand on his own and bent down in front of his trunk pulling out jeans and a shirt. Harry did the same and looked at James. He frowned for a moment before undressing in front of his brother, both boys completely used to the other being naked. “What’s the matter Harry? I know you’re upset about something,” James sighed.

“I can’t help but think of him,” Harry said pulling on his socks. “Sirius… it’s just unreal. I still think that he’s going to show up and say it’s a horrible joke or something.”

“Harry…”

“I know, I’m being stupid,” Harry said. “But still I can’t help but think about it whenever his name is mentioned… I think I loved him almost as I love you James.”

James just smiled and said “I know… just take your time grieving. Damn what anyone else says. Now come on, chin up! Let’s see how much you beat me at those O.W.L.s.”

“Beat you?” Harry laughed. “James, you’re so much better at Defense Against the Darks Arts and Potions than me.”

“Says the boy who essentially created several pensieves in journals,” James said. “And without a boring Ancient Runes class to boot!”

Harry blushed and stammered for a moment. James laughed and the two of them finished dressing. As they exited their room Harry, in a much better mood, turned to James and said “What exactly happened to Hermione?”

“Oh! Fred and George left a telescope here that Hermione picked up. When she squeezed it against her eye it gave her a black eye,” James explained.

“Bet she didn’t like that,” Harry chuckled.

“No she did not,” James smirked. “But I think she’s more worried about the O.W.L. results more than a little black eye.”

Harry smirked and sniggered with James as they went downstairs holding their breakfast trays. Hermione was sitting at the kitchen table in great agitation, while Mrs. Weasley tried to lessen her resemblance to half a panda.

“It just won’t budge,” Mrs. Weasley was saying anxiously, standing over Hermione with her wand in her hand and a copy of The Healer’s Helpmate open at “Bruises, Cuts, and Abrasions.” “This has always worked before, I just can’t understand it.”

“It’ll be Fred and George’s idea of a funny joke, making sure it can’t come off,” Ginny said.

“But it’s got to come off!” Hermione squeaked. “I can’t go around looking like this forever!”

“You won’t dear, we’ll find an antidote, don’t worry,” Mrs. Weasley said soothingly.

Harry turned to look at Ron who was leaning against a counter. Ron seemed taller, bigger. Harry knew that Ron and James worked out together since fourth year, something about not wanting to fall behind Krum or something, but where James’s muscles were sculpted like a master artisan working with marble, Ron was developing a burly rugged look with huge forearms like his brother Charlie, barrel-chest with developing muscular pecs if he was like James; his arms and legs seemed a little bit hairier, his legs looking very defined as well. All in all Ron looked as if he had more similarity to both Bill and Charlie rather than the lanky twins like he used to have in third year. He filled out his clothes nicely, everything was comfortably tight on his body without looking sexual or constricting. Ron’s talking snapped Harry out of his thoughts as he began to realize that he was staring at his friend, “Hermione, will you shut up, you’re not the only one who’s nervous!” Ron barked. “And when you’ve got your eleven ‘Outstanding’ O.W.L.s …”

“Don’t, don’t don’t! Hermione said, flapping her hands hysterically. “I know I’ve failed everything!”

“What happens if you failed?” James asked.

“As if you would,” Harry mumbled before Hermione answered.

“We discuss out options with out Head of House, I asked Professor McGonagall at the end of last term.”

“At Beauxbatrons,” Fleur said complacently, “we ‘ad a different way of doing things. I think eet was better. We sat our examination after six years of study, not five, and then—“

Fleur’s words were drowned in a scream. Hermione was pointing through the kitchen window. Four black specks were clearly visible in the sky, growing larger all the time.

“They’re definitely owls,” Ron said hoarsely, jumping up to join Hermione at the window.

“And there’s four of them,” James added as the twins joined her other side.

“One for each of us,” Hermione said in a terrified whisper. “Oh no… oh no… oh no…”

She gripped both James and Ron tightly around the elbows. The owls were flying directly at the Burrow, four handsome tawnies, each of which, it became clear as they flew lower over the path leading up to the house, was carrying a large square envelope.

“Oh no!” Hermione squealed.

Mrs. Weasley squeezed past them and opened the kitchen window. One, two, three, four, the owls soared through it and landed on the table in a neat line. All four of them lifted their right legs.

The twins moved forward. The letters addressed to them were tied to the owls in the middle. Harry untied his with fumbling fingers as did James. Ron was trying to detach his own results; to his right Hermione’s hand were shaking so much she was making her whole owl tremble.

Nobody in the kitchen spoke. At last, Harry managed to detach the envelope. He slit it open quickly and unfolded the parchment inside.

ORDINARY WIZARDING LEVEL RESULTS

Pass Grades                                                                                          Fail Grades

OUTSTANDING (O)                                                                                 POOR (P)

EXCEEDS EXPECTATIONS (E)                                                   DREADFUL (D)

ACCEPTABLE (A)                                                                                   TROLL (T)

Harry Fleamont Potter has achieved:

Astronomy                                                 A

Care of Magical Creatures                         E

Charms                                                   O

Defense Against the Dark Arts                  O

Divination                                                    D

Herbology                                                  E

History of Magic                                        T

Potions                                                         E

Transfiguration                                              O

Harry read the parchment through several times, his breathing becoming easier with each reading. It was brilliant; he passed the classes he really cared about! He knew he was going to fail Divination, and he was sleeping through the entire test for History of Magic because he was too busy studying for Transfiguration and looked what it got him! An ‘Outstanding’ in it! And in Charms! And it looked he did fine elsewhere as well. All in all Harry was quite please with himself, a thought passing through his mind that he should just devote an entire page of his journal to this.

He looked at James and without saying a word they swapped papers.

ORDINARY WIZARDING LEVEL RESULTS

Pass Grades                                                                                          Fail Grades

OUTSTANDING (O)                                                                                 POOR (P)

EXCEEDS EXPECTATIONS (E)                                                   DREADFUL (D)

ACCEPTABLE (A)                                                                                   TROLL (T)

James Sirius Potter has achieved:

Astronomy                                                 A

Care of Magical Creatures                         E

Charms                                                       E

Defense Against the Dark Arts                  O

Divination                                                    T

Herbology                                                  O

History of Magic                                        D

Potions                                                         O

Transfiguration                                              E

Harry looked at James and asked “How did you get a ‘D’ in History of Magic?”

“Saw you sleeping and thought it was a good idea,” James shrugged before looking at Harry’s paper again. A huge smile developed on his face and he reached out to scuffle Harry’s hair. “Three ‘Outstandings!’ I knew you could do it Harry!” He grinned.

“Thanks,” Harry smiled, his chest swelling with pride at his brother’s remark. “You did great too! Though I beat you in Divination.”

“Ha! Well I was too busy staring at a cute boy the entire time,” James smirked.

The twins looked around. Hermione had her back to them and her head bent, but Ron was looking delighted.

“Only failed Divination and History of Magic, and who cares about them?” he said happily to Harry. “Here—swap—“

Harry glanced down at Ron’s grades: There were no ‘Outstandings’ there…

“Hang on… your middle name’s Fleamont?” Ron said, his lips curled in a snigger.

Harry’s cheeks redden and said “Since James’s middle name was … our godfather’s, Mum wanted mine to be my dad’s dad. At least that’s what Remus told us.”

“Oh… strange name,” Ron commented before looking at Harry’s grades. “Knew you’d be top at Defense Against the Dark Arts,” he grinned. “But Charms and Transfiguration? How did you get those? You barely do as much work as I do! Congrats!”

“Thanks Ron,” Harry smiled as Ron took James’s and gave Harry his back.

“Well done!” Mrs. Weasley said proudly, ruffling Ron’s hair. “Seven O.W.L.s, that’s more than Fred and George got together!”

“Hermione,” Ginny said tentatively, for Hermione still hadn’t turned around. “How did you do?”

“I—not bad,” Hermione said in a small voice.

“Oh, come off it,” Ron said, striding over to her and whipping her results out of her hand. “Yep—ten ‘Outstandings’ and one ‘Exceeds Expectations’ at Defense Against the Dark Arts.” He looked down at her, half-amused, half-exasperated. “You’re actually disappointed, aren’t you?”

Hermione shook her head, but the twins laughed.

“Well, we’re N.E.W.T. students now,” Ron grinned. “Mum, are there any more sausages?”

Harry looked back down at his results, extremely pleased with himself. “You did good Harry,” James breathed into his ear. Harry nodded and looked up at James. “So did you.”

“Well, since we did so good I think that means we should treat ourselves,” James smirked. “Or that I should treat the both of us. How about the next time we’re at Diagon Alley we go to our favorite place?”

“Okay,” Harry nodded. “But if you try to buy me that outfit again, I swear—“

“What?” James laughed. “A joke! It was a joke! Like I would want you to become my little sister, that is such a turn off Harry.”

“Pervert,” Harry grumbled.

“Well this pervert is going to be exercising with Ron in a bit in our rooms,” James said. “I’m guessing you want to commit this to your journal before he comes up?”

“Yes please,” Harry nodded.

“Come on,” James said. He looked at Ron and said, “Come up in ten minutes, alright?”

“Of course!” Ron said, his mouth half-full of food.

“If only he liked only boys than his nasty manners would go away,” James sighed causing Harry to chuckle as they climbed the stairs into their room. They made their way to their trunks and opened them. “Where did you put my weights?” James asked.

“Corner bottom,” Harry said pulling out all six journals again. Opening the latest one he again pressed his wand against the temple of his wand and slowly pulled away, the memory moving with the wand. He’d let the memory fall into the journal and two pages glowed briefly before showing both Harry’s and James’s O.W.L. results. He turned to James who had just finished pulling out two hundred pound dumbbells. “You know, you’re really good at Transfiguration and Charms Harry,” James said pulling out a strange weight. “Why don’t you tell Ron and Hermione?”

“I just… um…” Harry said adverting James’ eyes as he packed his journals away. “It’s embarrassing… I don’t want to be known as the male Hermione.”

“Trust me, you’re way better than a male Hermione Harry,” James said as he finished pulling out all of his weights. He smiled and looked to his brother. “Would you please return them to a normal size?” he asked.

“Alright one second,” Harry said. He pointed his wand at the weights and muttered “Engorgio.” The weights swelled to their original size which caused James to smirk. “Great, can’t wait to beat Ron’s record with these,” he said. “You wanna watch Harry?”

“Why not?” Harry shrugged. “You know I always watch you do this anyways… not that I have much of a choice.” He finished with a knowing look.

“You’re free to go little brother. But just know that I’ll find you in two minutes and bring you back with me,” James said matching Harry’s look.

Harry smiled and walked up to James. “We’re always attached at the hips, right?”

“Best place to be,” James breathed. They stared at each other for a moment before James breathing, “We’re definitely going to our place.”

“Counting on it,” Harry said. He leaned to kiss James’ cheek only to move cheekily away at the last moment.

Ron came in a moment later and Harry relaxed in a comfortable position as both boys took off their shirts and jeans leaving them only in their boxers, a male bonding ritual according to James and Ron, and proceeded to get very sweaty with their weight-lifting and competing. Harry moved to open a window half an hour in and smiled to himself as he continued to watch the two go at it. A feat of testosterone-filled masculinity happening in front of Harry as the two teenagers worked at developing and perfecting their bodies. A strange erotic ritual that became habitual for James and Ron and here Harry is to stare at the muscles and watch the sweat moisten their bodies for some lucky boy who falls in love with them. Yet during this ritual Harry’s eyes began to wander, falling to the bed where he and James slept in. On James’s side was a photo, the photo, of Tom Riddle. And as much as he hated to admit it, Harry couldn’t help but admit that he could understand why such a boy would draw James towards him as Harry fell for those hypnotic eyes.

Chapter Text

Chapter 3

The twins remained within the confines of the Burrow’s garden over the next few weeks. They spent most of their days playing two-a-side Quidditch in the Weasleys’ orchard (the twins against Ron and Ginny; Ron was alright but Ginny was good) and their evenings eating triple helpings of everything Mrs. Weasley put in front of them. There were breaks, of course, where the twins and Ron went to their room and Harry just watched as James and Ron worked out with the muggle and magical weights.

It would have been a happy, peaceful holiday had it not been for the stories of disappearances, odd accidents, even of deaths now appearing almost daily in the Prophet. Sometimes Bill and Mr. Weasley brought home news before it even reached the paper. To Mrs. Weasley’s displeasure, the twins’ sixteenth birthday celebrations were marred by grisly tidings brought to the party by Remus Lupin, who was looking gaunt and grim, his brown hair streaked liberally with gray, his clothes more ragged and patched than ever.

“There have been another couple of dementor attacks,” he announced as Mrs. Weasley passed him a large slice of birthday cake. “And they’ve found Igor Karkaroff’s body in a shack up north. The Dark Mark had been set over it—well, frankly, I’m surprised he stayed alive for even a year after deserting the Death Eaters. Sirius’s brother, Regulus, only managed a few days as far as I can remember.”

“Who was Karkaroff again?” Harry asked looking to his brother.

“Umm he was the headmaster of Krum’s school,” James said. “The one who threw daggers with his eyes at us all the time. … It didn’t help that Krum danced with you during the Yule Ball now does it?”

“It was nice,” Harry blushed, although there was some resentment in his tone.

“Just remember who saved you in that lake,” James whispered as Bill began talking.

“Did you hear about Florean Fortescue, Remus?” Bill asked, who was being plied with wine by Fleur. “The man who ran—“

“—the ice-cream place in Diagon Alley?” Harry interrupted, with an unpleasant, hollow sensation in the pit of his stomach. “He used to give me and James free ice creams. What happened to him?”

“Dragged off, by the look of his place.”

“Why?” Ron asked, while Mrs. Weasley pointedly glared at Bill.

“Who knows? He must’ve upset them somehow. He was a good man, Florean.”

“Talking of Diagon Alley,” Mr. Weasley said, “looks like Ollivander’s gone too.”

“The wandmaker?” Ginny said, looking startled.

Harry and James looked at each other shocked. Harry leaned into James and whispered “Do you think that our place could be—“

“No it’s impossible,” James said with a worried expression. “Nobody but the members knows about the place.”

“But still…” Harry frowned, “Nothing is safe nowadays right? What if the Death Eaters got one of the members and forced the information out of them, even by accident?”

“Harry,” James sighed. “You need to stop worrying, the place is safe, believe me. You know how wards are protecting the place.”

“I know but I can’t stop worrying,” Harry said. He looked at James’s eyes and said, “What if we can’t go there anymore? What if the Death Eaters decide to use it? An instant passageway from Diagon Alley to Hogsmeade!”

“Harry now you’re overthinking,” James said, though form the flick of his eyes Harry knew that James was worried too.

“What are you two talking about?” Ron’s voice interrupted them. The twins turned to Ron who was sitting next to Harry.

“Oh umm…” Harry said, his eyes moving from James to Ron as a light blush developed on his cheeks.

James looked down at Harry and to Ron and gave a small smirk. “A place in Diagon Alley… and Hogsmeade. Very secretive.”

“It is?” Ron asked.

“Yeah,” James said. He looked at his brother for a moment than said, “Yeah very secretive, sometimes there’s masks and everything but… we can get you in, if you want that is.”

Ron’s face beamed up with glee. “Yeah! Why not?”

“Awesome,” James said. “Next time we’re at Diagon Alley Harry and I will show you exactly where it is. Isn’t that right Harry?”

“James, it’s in Knock—“

“Don’t worry about it Harry,” James said putting a shoulder around Harry’s shoulders. “I’m sure Ron’ll be a perfect fit for our place.”

Harry looked between the two muscled teens and just nodded before returning to his birthday cake.

“So what’s it called?” Ron asked grinning.

“You’ll see,” James said with a knowing smirk looking down at Harry. “It’s a very nice place.”

Harry, his mouth still full of cake, just nodded. “Lots of people like us,” James said. “You might even see familiar faces… if they’re not wearing masks of course.”

“Masks?” Ron asked, his face scrunching slightly.

“You’ll see,” James said.

The day after this rather gloomy birthday tea, their letters and booklists arrived from Hogwarts. James’ included a surprise: He had been made Quidditch Captain.

“That gives you equal status with prefects!” Hermione cried happily. “You can use our special bathroom now and everything!”

“Wow, I remember when Charlie wore one of these,” Ron said, examining the badge with glee. “James, this is so cool, you’re my Captain—if you let me back on the team, I suppose, ha ha. …”

“Well, I don’t suppose we can put off a trip to Diagon Alley much longer now you’ve got these,” Mrs. Weasley sighed, looking down Ron’s booklist. “We’ll go on Saturday as long as your father doesn’t have to go into work again. I’m not going there without him.”

“Mum, d’you honestly think You-Know-Who’s going to be hiding behind a bookshelf in Flourish and Blotts?” Ron sniggered.

“Fortescue and Ollivander went on holiday, did they?” Mrs. Weasley said, firing up at once. “If you think security’s a laughing matter you can stay behind and I’ll get your things myself—“

“No, I wanna come, I want to see Fred and George’s shop!” Ron said hastily.

“Then you just buck up your ideas, young man, before I decide you’re too immature to come with us!” Mrs. Weasley said angrily, snatching up her clock, all nine hands of which were still pointing at “mortal peril,” and balancing it on top of a pile of just-laundered towels. “And that goes for returning to Hogwarts as well!”

Ron turned to stare incredulously at James and Harry as his mother hoisted the laundry basket and the teetering clock into her arms and stormed out of the room.

“Blimey… you can’t even make a joke round her anymore. …”

Harry just shrugged and snatched James’s captain badge. Grinning at him he said cheekily, “Should I be calling you ‘Captain’ now?”

“If you’re tired of ‘Sir,’ ‘Master,’ or your superior,” James laughed. “Although if you don’t want to be my Seeker…”

“As if you’ll find anyone better than me,” Harry bit back. “Come on, I know you want to prepare our clothes for Saturday.”

“Of course,” James smirked. He looked at Ron and said “Make sure to wear dark clothing under your cloak, alright… and don’t look too Muggle-ish.”

Ron looked at the twins confused. Harry just shook his head and said “Don’t worry about it, he’s just being prudish.”

James just gave a snort huff and ruffled Harry’s hair roughly. “Come on then, help your ‘Captain’ with your clothes.”

Saturday dawned without any more outbursts from Mrs. Weasley, though she seemed very tense at breakfast. Bill, who would be staying at home with Fleur (much to Hermione and Ginny’s pleasure), passed a full money back across the table to James.

“Where’s mine?” Ron demanded at once, his eyes wide.

“That’s already James’, idiot,” Bill said. “I got it out of your vault for you, boys, because it’s taking about five hours for the public to get to their gold at the moment, the goblins have tightened security so much.”

“Thanks Bill,” James said passing the bag to Harry. Harry took out his wand and tapped the bag, which immediately split into two smaller bags of money which the twins pocketed.

“’E is always so thoughtful,” Fleur purred adoringly, stroking Bill’s nose. Ginny mimed vomiting into her cereal behind Fleur.

IT was an overcast, murky day. One of the special Ministry of Magic cars, in which Harry and James had ridden once before, was awaiting them in the front yard when they emerged from the house, pulling on their cloaks. James brought his bag, which had the Invisibility Cloak inside.

“It’s good Dad can get us these again,” Ron said appreciatively, stretching luxuriously as the car moved smoothly away from the Burrow, Bill and Fleur waving from the kitchen window. He, Harry, James, Hermione, and Ginny were all sitting in roomy comfort in the wide backseat.

“Don’t get used to it, it’s only because of James and Harry,” Mr. Weasley said over his shoulder. He and Mrs. Weasley were in front with the Ministry driver. “They’ve been given top-grade security status. And we’ll be joining up with additional security at the Leaky Cauldron too.”

Harry said nothing’ he didn’t much fancy doing his shopping while surrounded by a battalion of Aurors. Though he knew that none of them stood a chance of stopping him and James from going to their place. Speaking of which, Harry stretched his body out a little as he looked down at the clothes James had him wear. They were all very tight, Harry felt like his shirt was practically a second skin as it hugged his form, and his pants… Harry didn’t want to begin thinking of what he was wearing underneath his pants for fearing he would start blushing madly.

“Why do I let you dress me?” Harry muttered angrily elbowing James lightly.

James just laughed and shrugged, he was wearing a matching shirt and jeans that were both form-fitting. “Just because,” he smiled.

“Nobody there will be wearing stuff like this,” Harry whispered. “Besides, look at Ron! We’re making him nervous!”

The twins looked at Ron, who was wearing normal clothing and kept glancing at the twins’ clothes before looking at his own. “Don’t worry about him, besides our robes cover most of it,” James shrugged. “Relax Harry. The first thing I’m doing is getting you a butterbeer.”

Harry said nothing but slumped back into his seats, pulling his robes over his clothes to make sure that they were completely hidden.

“Here you are then,” the driver said, a surprisingly short while later, speaking for the first time as he slowed in Charing Cross Road and stopped outside the Leaky Cauldron. “I’m to wait for you, any idea how long you’ll be?”

“A couple of hours, I expect,” Mr. Weasley said. “Ah, good, he’s here!”

Harry imitated Mr. Weasley and peered through the window; his heart leapt. There were no Aurors waiting outside the inn, but instead the gigantic, black-bearded form of Rubeus Hagrid wearing a long beaverskin coat, beaming at the sight of Harry’s face and oblivious to the startled stares of passing Muggles.

“Harry!” he boomed, sweeping Harry and James into a bone-crushing hug the moment the twins had stepped out of the car. “Buckbeak—Witherwings, I mean—yeh should see him, boys, he’s so happy ter be back in the open air—“

“Glad he’s pleased,” James said, grinning as he massaged his ribs. “We didn’t mean ‘security’ meant you!”

“I know, jus’ like old times, innit? See, the Ministry wanted ter send a bunch o’ Aurors, but Dumbledore said I’d do,” Hagrid said proudly, throwing out his chest and tucking his thumbs into his pockets. “Let’s get goin’ then—after yeh, Molly, Arthur—“

The Leaky Cauldron was, for the first time, completely empty. Only Tom the landlord, wizened and toothless, remained of the old crowd. He looked up hopefully as they entered, but before he could speak, Hagrid said importantly, “Jus’ passin’ through today, Tom, sure yeh understand, Hogwarts business, yeh know.”

Tom nodded gloomily and returned to wiping glasses. James and Harry looked at each other frowning a little. An empty Leaky Cauldron couldn’t be a good sign.

Diagon Alley had changed. The colorful, glittering window displays of spellbooks, potion ingredients, and cauldrons were lost to view, hidden behind the large Ministry of Magic posters that had been pasted over them. Most of these somber purple posters carried blown-up versions of the security advice on the Ministry pamphlets that had been sent out over the summer, but others bore moving black-and-white photographs of Death Eaters known to be on the loose. A few windows were boarded up, including those of Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlor. On the other hand, a number of shabby-looking stalls had sprung up along the street. The nearest one, which had been erected outside Flourish and Blotts, under a striped, stained awning, had a cardboard sign pinned to its front:

AMULETS

Effective Against Werewolves, Dementors, and Inferi

“James… you sure that it’ll be open?” Harry whispered to his twin.

“I admit this can be a bad sign but still… the place’s hidden,” James whispered back as they passed a seedy-looking wizard. “And it’s in Knockturn Alley! You think the Death Eaters would be going around destroying Knockturn Alley?”

“I don’t know, maybe,” Harry said looking around. “Do you think we’ll have time?”

“Of course, Harry, stop worrying…” James said.

The group decided to split in half, James, Harry, Ron, and Hermione going with Hagrid to Madam Malkin’s while Ginny head with her parents to Flourish and Blotts. Harry noticed that many of the people who passed them had the same harried, anxious looks as Mrs. Weasley, and that nobody was stopping to talk anymore; the shoppers stayed together in their own tightly knit groups, moving intently about their business. Nobody seemed to be shopping alone.

Ron looked at James and Harry and whispered, “Is that thing still on?”

“Of course, it is,” James smiled. “Don’t worry Ron, the wait will be well worth it. Hell, you might even think of becoming a member like Harry and I.” James flashed Ron a smile as he wrapped an arm around Harry’s shoulder.

The four teens entered the little shop together with Hagrid standing guard outside. It appeared, at first glance, to be empty, but no sooner had the door swung shut behind them than they heard a familiar voice issuing from behind a rack of dress robes in spangled green and blue.

“… not a child, in case you haven’t noticed, Mother. I am perfectly capable of doing my shopping alone.’ Can you believe her? Honestly.”

There was a chuckling noise and a voice Harry recognized as that of Madam Malkin, the owner, said, “Now, dear, your mother’s quite right, none of us is supposed to go wandering around on our own anymore, it’s nothing to do with being a child—

“—Ow! Watch where you’re sticking that pin, will you!”

A teenage boy with a pale, aristocratic face and platinum-blond hair appeared from behind the rack, wearing a handsome set of dark green robes that glittered with pins around the hem and the edges of the sleeves. He strode to the mirror and examined himself; it was a few moments before he noticed Harry, James, Ron, and Hermione reflected over his shoulder. His silver eyes narrowed.

“Oh, the Potter twins are here,” He sneered. “Here I thought you two would be stuffed in a prison somewhere to keep from harm.”

“Honestly Malfoy is that really necessary?” a voice said from behind the racks. A tall teen with chocolate-colored skin walked through the racks wearing a similar set of dark green robes. He had broad shoulders, very short black hair, and a dangerous glint in his eye that was strangely familiar to Harry. When he saw the Potters he stopped for a moment before saying “Potters. Weasley.”

“Zabini,” James said.

The three stared at each other for a while, Harry’s eyes glancing back and forth from James to Zabini as a tense silence fell upon them. Why does his eyes look so familiar?

“Well,” Malfoy sneered breaking the silence, “are you going to do something or just stand there all day?”

Zabini’s eyes just glanced back at Malfoy for just a second before looking at James and Harry. “Potters… we’ll see you at school,” he said tensely.

“Of course,” James said. Harry felt his brother’s hand grab his lower arm tightly and was pulled closer to his side as Zabini turned to Madam Malkin and handed her a small bag of gold.

“For our robes,” he said. Turning to Malfoy he said, “Draco, we’re leaving.” He pulled out a wand and flicked it; their dress robes flew off of their bodies and neatly folded themselves as the pins and needles shot out of Malfoy’s robes and into a tin nearby.

Malfoy just stared at Zabini for a moment before huffing. “See you at school,” he said rudely to James and Harry, making sure to knock his shoulder into Harry’s as he left. “Let’s go to Twilfitt and Tatting’s, Blaise, they have a much better selection than this scum,” he said as the two Slytherins left the shop.

James just glared at the door for a bit before turning to Madam Malkin.

“What just happened?” Ron asked looking around confused.

“I’m guessing James and Zabini had a glaring match,” Hermione said, “and James won.”

They both looked towards the twins who were busy whispering to each other. “What are they talking about?” Hermione asked.

“I don’t know,” Ron shrugged. “Fred and George talked to each other all the time like that. I’ve learned best not to question it.”

Madam Malkin was distracted all through the fitting of Ron’s and James’s new robes, tried to sell Harry witch’s robes instead of wizard’s, and when she finally bowed them out of the shop it was with an air of being glad to see the back of them.

“Got ev’rything?” Hagrid asked brightly when they reappeared.

“Just about yeah,” Harry said.

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and Ginny appeared, all clutching heavy packages of books.

“Everyone all right?” Mrs. Weasley said. “Got your robes? Right then, we can pop into the Apothecary and Eeylops on the way to Fred and George’s—stick close, now. …”

Neither Harry nor Ron brought any ingredients at the Apothecary, seeing that they did not get the ‘Outstanding’ required to continue Potions, but both brought large boxes of owl nuts for Hedwig and Pigwidgeon at Eeylops Owl Emporium. James looked at his and Harry’s bags filled with owl treats and smirked “Hedwig must love her daddies.”

“Considering we’re feeding her two helpings every day?” Harry asked sharing a smile. Mrs. Weasley lead the way further down the street in search of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, the joke shop run by Fred and George.

“Whoa,” Ron said, stopping in his tracks.

Set against the dull, poster-muffled shop fronts around them, Fred and George’s windows hit the eye like a firework display. Casual passerby were looking back over their shoulders at the windows, and a few rather stunned-looking people had actually come to a halt, transfixed. The left-hand window was dazzlingly full of an assortment of goods that revolved, popped, flashed, bounced, and shrieked; Harry’s eyes began to water just looking at it. The right-hand window was covered with a gigantic poster, purple like those of the Ministry, but emblazoned with flashing yellow letters:

WHY ARE YOU WORRYING ABOUT

YOU-KNOW-WHO?

YOU SHOULD BE WORRYING ABOUT

U-NO-POO –

THE CONSTIPATION SENSATION

THAT’S GRIPPING THE NATION!

Harry and James started to laugh. They heard a weak sort of moan beside him and looked around to see Mrs. Weasley gazing, dumbfounded, at the poster. Her lips moved silently, mouthing the name “U-No-Poo.”

“They’ll be murdered in their beds!” she whispered.

“No they won’t!” Ron said. “This is brilliant!”

James and Harry led the way into the shop, James dragging his brother after him. It was packed with customers: Harry could not get near the shelves. He stared around, looking up at the boxes piled to the ceiling: Here were the Skiving Snackboxes that the Weasley twins had perfected during their last, unfinished year of Hogwarts; Harry noticed that the Nosebleed Nougat was most popular, with only one battered box left on the shelf. There were bins full of trick wands, and boxes of quills, which came in Self-Inking, Spell-Checking, and Smart-Answer varieties. A space cleared in the crowd, and James pulled Harry towards the counter, where a gaggle of delighted ten year olds was watching a tiny wooden man slowly ascending the steps to a real set of gallows, both perched on a box that read: REUSABLE HANGMAN—SPELL IT OR HE’LL SWING!

“Well! If it isn’t the twins,” a voice beamed from behind them. Harry and James turned to see Fred standing before them, wearing a set of magenta robes that clashed magnificently with his flaming hair. “How are you doing boys?”

“Alright Fred,” James smiled. “Will we be seeing you and George later at the place?”

“Of course, of course!” Fred smiled. “George and I go there every day. I mean, where else will the hottest twin couple go?”

“Anywhere that Harry and I go, right Harry?” James said pulling Harry to his side.

Harry just blushed and nodded. Fred laughed and said, “Please James, you and Harry are still only on chaste kisses, whereas George and I have done everything twins can do to show their love for each other.” Harry glanced at his brother, his face reddening even deeper. “We’re bringing Ron!” he blurted out, wanting to end this discussion.

Fred looked at Harry for a moment before chuckling, “Then he’ll just watch his sexy brothers make out in our corner.”

“The place isn’t supposed to be lewd,” Harry argued. “It’s just a pub.”

“A very special pub, with a special name,” Fred said wagging his eyebrows. “But we’ll talk more about it later, to save Harry’s innocence.” Harry glared at Fred but thanked him. “Come on, I’ll give you guys a tour.”

The twins followed Fred toward the back of the shop, where he saw a stand of card and rope tricks.

“Muggle magic tricks!” Fred said happily, pointing them out. “For freaks like Dad, you know, who love Muggle stuff. It’s not a big earner, but we do fairly steady income, they’re great novelties. …Oh, here’s George. …”

Fred’s twin shook James’s and Harry’s hands energetically before turning to Fred kissing him deeply. “Giving them the tour? Come through the back, boys, that’s where we’re making the real money.”

George pushed back a curtain beside the Muggle tricks and Harry saw a darker, less crowded room. The packaging on the products lining these shelves was more subdued. “We’ve just developed this more serious line,” Fred said. “Funny how it happened…”

“You wouldn’t believe how many people, even people in the Ministry, can’t do a decent Shield Charm,” George said. “’Course they didn’t have two visually appealing twins to teach them.” He winked.

“That’s right. …Well, we thought Shield Hats were a bit of a laugh, you know, challenge your friend to a duel while wearing it and watch his face when the jinxes just bounce off. But the Ministry brought five hundred of all its support staff! And we’re still getting massive orders!”

“So we’ve expanded into a range of Shield Cloaks, Shield Gloves …”

“…I mean, they’re pointless against the Unforgivable Curses, but for minor to moderate hexes or jinxes they work.”

“Look at this! Instant Darkness Powder, we’re important it from Peru. Handy if you want a quick getaway,” Fred said.

Harry went to the nearest box and opened it pulling out a pair of gloves. Taking his wand, he poked and prodded the pair of gloves and turned to the twins. “This is brilliant guys! Seriously the wandwork… the charms… just brilliant!”

“Look at that Fred, he complimented us,” George said.

“I think he deserves a thank you, George,” Fred smiled. The twins went up to Harry and pulled him from the floor, crushing him between their bodies as they both kissed his cheek comically. “He smells like strawberries, George?” Fred asked.

“I think apples,” George said.

“Then kiss him again!” James called out with a huge smile on his face as he tried his best to keep from laughing.

The twins did so before letting Harry drop to the floor. James walked up laughing and pulled Harry to his side. Harry gave him a glare before looking at the twins. “But umm seriously… good job guys,” he said.

“Thanks,” George said. A young witch with short blonde hair poked her head around the curtain; Harry saw that she too was wearing magenta staff robes. “There’s a customer out here looking for a joke cauldron, Mr. Weasley and Mr. Weasley,” she said.

Harry found it very odd to hear Fred and George called “Mr. Weasley,” but they took it in their stride.

“Right, you are, Verity, I’m coming,” George said promptly. “Will we see you at the place?” he asked James and Harry.

“Of course you will,” Fred said. “And they’re bringing little Ron along as well!”

“He’s not little anymore,” George chuckled. “But can’t wait to hear his reaction! Take whatever you want boys, no charge!”

“Yeah, you two gave us our start-up loan, we haven’t forgotten,” Fred said sternly. “Take whatever you like, and just remember to tell people where you got it, if they ask.”

George swept off through the curtain to help with the customers, and Fred led James and Harry back into the main part of the shop to find Hermione and Ginny poring over the Patented Daydream Charms. “Haven’t you girls found our special WonderWitch products yet?” Fred asked. “Follow me, ladies…”

James held Harry’s arm and smiled at him. “Let’s go!” he whispered.

Harry nodded and looked around for Ron, who was eyeing several boxes. He pointed Ron out to James and they made their way to him. “Ron,” James said. “Follow us for the best place of your life.”

“We’re going? We’re actually going?” Ron said with excitement.

“Absolutely, now come on!” James said pulling out the Invisibility Cloak. Harry was crammed between the two muscled bodies as James threw the cloak over the three of them. Nobody noticed them vanish; they were all too interested in Fred and George’s products. Harry, Ron, and James squeezed their way out of the door as quickly as they could. “Just follow us,” James murmured as he and Harry began walking their way towards Knockturn Alley, turning left into it. They stopped at the entrance of it as Ron’s feet stopped moving.

“James? You know where you’re going right?” Ron whispered.

“Of course I do,” James said. “The place is in Knockturn Alley. …Didn’t we tell you?”

“No,” Ron said.

“You’re not afraid are you, Ron?” Harry asked innocently turning to face him.

“N-No it’s just…”

“Then let’s go! I owe my brother a butterbeer,” James said. The street looked completely deserted. They peered into windows as they passed, but none of the shops seemed to have any customers at all. Harry supposed it was a bit of a giveaway in these dangerous and suspicious times to buy Dark artifacts—or at least, to be seen buying them. But the shops’ desertions only made Harry worry even more. “James…”

“It’ll be full, don’t worry,” James said. They stopped abruptly in front of an old small house that was crammed between two large shops just like Harry was crammed between the muscled bodies of Ron and James. James smiled at the two and pulled off the Invisibility Cloak.

“James!” Ron panicked.

“Relax Ron, nothing’s going to happen,” James smiled. He took out his wand and tapped the door three times. With a shutter, the door slid across to revealing a fat goblin wearing a business suit and slick-black hair. “Well, if it ain’t the Potter twins. Come in, come in,” he said in a terrible American accent..

“Thanks Gurlock,” Harry said walking past the doorman. James did as well and Ron hesitated before attempting to get in only to be stopped by the goblin.

“Hold it. Whos’ are you?” the goblin said eyeing Ron.

“Ron Weasley, he’s with us,” James said.

“Another Weasley!” the goblin exclaimed. “What’s that now four? Fine. Get in, quick now idiot, let’s go!”

Ron ran into the small house, the wooden door closing behind him. They were in a very small room with only a desk that had a ledger and a candle lit on it. “You doing masks or no masks today?” Gurlock asked returning to his seat.

“No masks,” James said. The goblin wrote something on the ledger and looked at Ron. “Name.”

“W-what?”

“Your name idiot,” Gurlock said. “You need to finish your membership sheet before going in. Members only, capise?”

“Ignore his accent, he only does it to scare new comers,” James said.

Ron just nodded and looked at the Goblin. “Ron Weasley,” he said nervously.

The goblin wrote it down and proceeded to ask Ron several questions about his birth, age, wand length, and home. When he was done, the goblin snapped his fingers and a small piece of parchment floated towards Ron showing all of the information that Ron told the goblin, as well as a picture of Ron. “Keep that on you for your first week, don’t lose it, and don’t worry if it starts to glow red. It does that.”

Ron took the piece of paper, his hands shaking as he did so and looked at the goblin who just looked down at his ledger.

“Thanks Gurlock,” James said motioning for Ron to stuff the piece of paper into his pocket. The goblin just grunted and knocked on the wall behind him twice. The wall slid down revealing a larger corridor that was furnished lavishly with warm colors. At the end of the corridor was a pair of twin oak doors that Harry and James opened.

The room was easily larger than The Three Broomsticks. Tables and booths took up most of the space, and most of them were already packed with wizards and witches. There was a calmer, more relaxed atmosphere compared to the atmosphere outside in Diagon Alley and Knockturn Alley. Ron looked around amazed at all the people walking around, figuring out that many of them were from outside of England. The walls were stone with enchanted windows that showed the weather outside, in this case cloudy, and torches gave the pub a warm, dark feeling as the witches and wizards moved around from table to table. On closer inspection Ron saw that some of the people were wearing silver masks with holes for the mouth and eyes while others walked around like him, James, and Harry, maskless. Harry turned and smiled when he saw Ron’s stunned expression. “Welcome to Devilish Intentions,” Harry smiled.

Ron looked around, seeing the spacious tables and the crowds all talking in a jovial manner. There were students their age as well as witches and Wizards well into adulthood. “It’s wonderful… how is this a secret?” he asked Harry and James, who just grinned.

“They keep on a need-to-know basics,” James said. “This place is a neutral place where witches and wizards from all over the world can just relax. The masks are for those who want, or require, extra secrecy. And then there are those who think they look hot in it.” He added with a smirk. “How about you and Harry go find a table, and I’ll get the butterbeers? I’m sure we have time for at least one round,” James said.

“Alright,” Harry said. He looked at Ron and motioned him to follow as the two walked deeper into the pub, Ron’s eyes always wondering about. “How many people are in here, Harry?” he asked.

“I don’t know… a lot, I guess,” Harry shrugged. “This place is very popular though only a few handful know about it.”

“Handful? Harry! There’s more people here than Gryffindor and Ravenclaw House put together!” Ron gasped. Harry chuckled and looked around. “There’s an empty table there,” he said pointing to a table that six wizards just vacated. “Come on!”

They made their way to the table and sat down. Ron was still looking around and asked, “How did you guys find this place?”

“Ohh well… Krum showed it to me first, then I showed James,” Harry said waving his hand. “Look! It’s Seamus!”

Ron turned to see Seamus Finnigan walked towards them smiling broadly. “Harry! Good to see you mate,” Seamus said. He looked at Ron and his eyes went wide for a second. “Ron! So you finally got here, didn’t you? Isn’t this place great?”

“It’s something,” Ron said, still in shock at the place. “How did you—“

“James can’t keep a secret,” Seamus smirked. “When Dean and I noticed that these two were heading somewhere in Hogsmeade every time we just had to know.”

“So is that it? I’m the only one who doesn’t know about it?” Ron asked jealously, getting suddenly angry.

“No! That’s not true,” Harry said. “A lot of people don’t know about this place. Neville doesn’t, and neither does Hermione or Ginny or any of the other Gryffindors.”

“I see…” Ron said. Seamus just looked between the two of them and said, “I’m with some other friends so I’ll see you guys at Hogwarts.”

“Alright Seamus, bye,” Harry said.

“Bye,” Ron said.

Harry turned to his friend and frowned. “Ron, what’s the matter?”

“Nothing’s the matter. It’s just Seamus knows more about my best friends than I do,” Ron grumbled.

“Ron, seriously, we were planning on bringing you here,” Harry said. “It’s just that last year everything with Umbridge and all that other stuff… we got a bit sidetracked.”

We did?” James asked as he walked towards them with three bottles of butterbeer. “Sidetracked with what?”

“Bringing me here,” Ron said.

“Oh… yeah,” James said. “Sorry Ron that we took so long.” James frowned. “We wanted to bring you during the final Hogsmeade visit but…”

“I know, Umbridge,” Ron sighed. He took his butterbeer and said, “I guess better late than never, right?”

“Exactly!” James smiled. He looked at Harry and said, “I’ve met a friend by the bar, and wouldn’t you know he has a new guy as well.”

“Really? Who is it?” Harry asked.

“Ze,” James said.

“Ze’s here?” Harry said smiling. He saw Ron’s confusion and said, “Ze’s a friend of ours who goes here. He tells us he’s also a Hogwarts student but won’t tell us who he is.”

“He keeps making us guess, he thinks its funny,” James said. “Ahh! Here’s Ze!”

Ron turned to see two boys their age walk towards them. They both had the silver masks on, though through the masks he could see brown and silver eyes. From their robes Ron could see that Ze had chocolate-colored skin while the other boy was pale.

“Ze!” James smiled hugging the boy. “How are you?”

“I’m doing very well James,” the boy said as he turned to hug Harry. “I’m just here to help my friend relax. He’s having a hard time.” Ze pointed to his friend who glared at him.

“I told you not to tell anyone that,” he hissed through his mask.

“This is a place of neutrality, Dee,” Ze said smiling. “So why don’t you just sit across Harry and relax?”

The pale boy just glared at Ze before following. He sat across of Harry who smiled and offered his hand. “I’m guessing we’re going to have to guess your name too?” he chuckled.

“Yeah, I guess,” Dee grumbled.

“So are you in our year?” Harry asked.

“Yeah, we are,” Dee said. “Honestly Pot—Harry, how can you not know that?”

Harry blushed and said, “It would help if I could see your face.”

“Well that’s not going to happen today,” Dee said crossing his arms. Harry laughed, which surprised him.

“So how many O.W.L.s did you get?” Harry asked.

“Nine,” the boy said with pride. “You?”

“Seven, but there were Three ‘Outstandings,’” Harry said.

“Ha, I’ve gotten five ‘Outstandings’ Potter,” Dee said.

“Oh really? What subjects?” Harry asked.

The boy’s eyes glinted as if he was smirking and said, “Transfiguration, Potions, Charms, Ancient Runes, and Herbology. You?”

Harry shared the smirk and said, “Transfiguration, Charms, and Defense Against the Dark Arts.”

“What Potter, no Potions?” Dee asked with the same swagger.

“No, wrong Potter Dee, but I’ve got an Exceeds Expectations,” Harry said, matching Dee’s swagger.

“Not good enough then,” Dee said shaking his head. “Shame, here I was thinking of beating you in Potions again. Like always.”

“Ha!” Harry barked. “James and I are unstoppable in Potions, right?” Harry turned to James only to see that he and Ron were deep in conversation with Ze.

“No help for you Potter, shame,” Dee sighed before taking a sip from his butterbeer.

Harry shrugged and said, “Well at least I don’t need to take Ancient Runes, I’m already top of the class in Transfiguration and Defense Against the Dark Arts.”

“Don’t need Ancient Runes? And why is that Harry?” Dee asked, leaning into the table.

Harry leaned in as well and said, “Simple, because I can turn notebooks into a pensieve.”

That shocked Dee as he leaned back. “You what?”

“Yeah,” Harry said confidently. “I can turn notebooks into pensieves. I have six of them already, all filled with my memories starting from first year up to now. Of course, I’ve only gotten the idea in second year… and didn’t do the first one successfully till the middle of fourth year… but now I’ve just about mastered it.”

“Potter,” Dee said seriously. “Crafting a pensieve is only a powerful wizard can do, and that is only for a regular pensieve. But to turn a notebook into one… that’s unheard of!”

“I know, which is why I’m proud of my work,” Harry said. “You cannot believe how many spells I need to cast and runes I need to make.”

“You need to show this to someone,” Dee said.

Harry shook his head immediately. “No, no I won’t. … I only show my diaries to James. Besides… only four people know about them, and they’re all sitting at this table.”

“But still Potter, if you can master making a pensieve at fourteen… just think of the possibilities, not profit but magic wise! You can try and create new spells you’ve never thought of, master spells thought out of your limit … fix things that everyone thinks are beyond broken. …The possibilities are endless Harry,” Dee said passionately.

Harry looked at him and bit his bottom lip. “Maybe… I don’t know…”

“Just think about it, okay?” Dee said. He looked to Ze then back to Harry. “Honestly I never thought I would be doing this, Potter. … I must be a loon. That or the damn atmosphere is affecting me.”

“Well you’re just calming down,” Harry said. “Didn’t Ze say that you need to do that?”

Dee was silent for a moment before nodding. “I guess you’re right. But I’ll get by it,” he shrugged. “Nothing that I can handle, Potter,” he said, his confidence returning to him.

Harry smiled and said, “Well I hope that whatever it is that’s stressing you out, you’ll get by it.”

Dee just looked at Harry before scoffing. He looked around for a while then back to Harry. “You wouldn’t say that if you knew who I am.”

“I think I would,” Harry said. “I’m nice to nearly everyone. And those whom I’m not, well they deserve it.”

I see,” Dee said, his eyes narrowing slightly. His eyes confused Harry as he looked at Dee’s masked face. His eyes were silver-greyish and, for whatever reason, sparked something in Harry’s mind but he didn’t know what.

“Well… if I can say something,” Harry said. “I found that my journals help me focus. They declutter my mind when I need them to. So… why don’t I make you a journal? That might help.”

“You would do that for a stranger like me?” Dee asked crossing his arms again.

“Why not? You’re nice, and I’m starting to like you so yeah,” Harry shrugged. “I need to make another one anyway.”

“That’s… thank you Potter, I would love one,” Dee said. Harry smiled and finished his butterbeer. “Then I’ll make you a journal and give it to you the first chance I’ve got.”

“Blimey is that the time?” James said looking at his watch. “We have to go! Ze it’s great catching up with you.”

“Anytime James, and it’s been a pleasure meeting you Ron,” Ze smiled.

“Yeah… pleasure,” Ron said, still breath-taken by the pub. Ze and the twins hugged goodbye and the twins led Ron back to the entrance they used in the back of the pub. “So how was your first experience, Ron?” James asked.

“I liked it,” Ron said. “It’s incredible… you say there’s an entrance in Hogsmeade?”

“Yeah we’ll show you that on our first trip,” Harry smiled. He looked at James and said, “Before we head back, I need to buy a couple of journals.”

“Alright,” James said. They returned to the tiny room with the goblin and James pulled out the Invisibility Cloak. “See ya Gurlock,” James said throwing the Invisibility Cloak onto himself, Harry, and Ron.

The door opened and they walked out of the tiny house. “Ron, we just need to make one more stop at a store here,” Harry said. “I swear this will only take a second.”

“Harry… when did you guys…”

“We’ll explain later,” James said smiling. “But don’t worry, we’re still as Light as they come.”

Harry nodded and they walked swiftly down the street back towards Diagon Alley. But before they made it to the small stone staircase that lead up to Diagon Alley, Harry made them stop in front of a bookstore called The Spiny Serpent. Harry ducked out from under the Invisibility Cloak and walked inside. The small store had several bookcases filled with textbooks and tomes of Dark Arts that lined against the walls. In the middle was a large open-top glass tank with snakes and serpents of various sizes slithering about hissing at the customers (mostly rude things). Harry ignore all of that and instead went to a table where several identical red leather-bound journals laid. Harry picked up two journals and walked past the snake tank as a surprisingly small cobra hissed an offensive joke at Harry. Harry just glared at the cobra, his eyes growing cold as he walked up to the tank and bent down in front of it.

“I can understand you,” He hissed sharply at the snakes. The snake froze in fear and remained quiet as Harry completed his transaction and walked out the store, giving the snake one final smile.

Returning under the Invisibility Cloak, Harry gave a small smile at Ron and said, “I’m so sorry, but when we get back we’ll explain everything.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 4

“Explain,” Ron demanded. They were back at the Burrow and it was late at night. The twins were already in their pajamas. Ron stood in front of them wearing only a pair of flannel pajama pants, his arms crossed on his muscled chest.

Harry looked at his brother, who was also shirtless, and asked sheepishly, “Where should we start?”

“How about all that Knockturn Alley stuff?” Ron demanded. “Harry you know we’re not supposed to go in there! It’s filled with Dark Wizards and all that.”

Harry frowned and looked at his brother. “Okay… we’ll start there,” he said. “Ron, you should sit down. It’ll take a while.”

Ron moved to a stack of boxes and sat on them. Harry sighed and felt his brother’s arm wrap around his waist as James moved in the bed to sit next to him. “We’re not Dark Wizards, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Harry said. “In fact, we’re far from it. … It’s just Knockturn Alley has stores that… that fulfill our interests... it’s the only place where I can get my journals, and it’s where James can get certain ingredients for his potions. We actually always went to Knockturn Alley… our first visit here with Hagrid… we slipped out and explored the place.”

“That’s umm well that’s actually when we learned that Harry’s… well a Parselmouth,” James said. “We walked into that store Harry asked us to stop in earlier today and the snakes hissed angrily at us. Harry asked how the snakes could be speaking English and well… after the shopkeeper explained he gave Harry books for free.”

“They’re all about the Dark Arts… James and I glanced through them but never opened them again once we learned what hey are,” Harry said.

“So you’ve threw them out, yeah?” Ron sked.

“Yeah, yeah of course,” Harry said, his eyes shifting to James who nodded. Neither of the muscled boys noticed Harry biting his lip.

“Good,” Ron said. “Because I don’t want to hear you’re messing with Dark Arts Harry.”

“Yes Ron,” Harry slipped out, Ron’s deep voice resonating inside him. “Anyway… Knockturn Alley is also the only place where we can get into Devilish Intentions. Seamus told us that there’s an entrance in Diagon Alley but we haven’t found it.”

“Well,” Ron said, his deep voice shaking Harry to his core and awakening his member. “You will find it, both of you. I don’t want either of you to go into Knockturn Alley again.”

“Ron you can’t possibly—“

“James. Tell me that you won’t go into Knockturn Alley ever again,” Ron stressed again.

The twins looked at each other before looking at Ron. “Yes Ron,” slipped past through both their lips.

Ron smirked and said “Guess Dee’s right, eh James? I’ve got the making’s of a Dominant.”

James, surprised, just nodded. Ron just smirked at the two and stretched groaning lightly. “I swear if you two weren’t like my little brothers…” he muttered. “Anyway, what else you guys have to explain? Why did you even have to buy those specific diaries Harry?”

Whatever sexual tension there was seemed to evaporate as Ron talked in his normal voice. Harry looked at James for a moment before sighing. “Do you promise not to tell anyone?” he asked.

“Yeah of course,” Ron said. “Like I said, you two are like my little brothers.”

“Okay,” Harry said. He got up and walked over to his trunk. “There’s a really good reason why I’ve gotten ‘Outstandings’ at Charms and Transfiguration,” he said. “It turns out I’m bloody good at them.” Harry opened his trunk and pulled out his journals. Picking one at random he undid the lock and gave it to Ron. “Fourth year… I’ve gotten the idea of making these in second year, but I haven’t really perfected it yet until this year. Go on, open it to a date.”

Curious Ron flipped the pages and stopped at a random date. “December 26^th 1993,” he read. Harry pressed his wand to the pages and Ron gave a yell as the pages began to glow and a moving image appeared.

Harry and Krum were sitting underneath a tree looking out on the Black Lake. Harry was leaning against the tree as Krum was staring longingly at Harry. Fresh snow was on the ground and Harry was wearing a heavy blanket that Krum gave him. “You are so beautiful Harry,” the Bulgarian boy whispered. “You are more beautiful than any woman in Bulgaria, Durmstrang, or even all of Europe.”

“T-Thank you Viktor,” Harry blushed. “Thank you also for asking me to be your date… I really enjoyed myself.”

“You are the most beautiful person I have ever laid my eyes on Harry,” Krum smiled. “Of course I wished to go to the ball with you.” Krum reached out and wiped his thumb against Harry’s cheeks. “A beautiful snow king who is being wasted away here. If I could I would sweep you off right now and take you home with me. There we’ll marry and live a wonderful life.”

“V-Viktor,” Harry said, shocked and not knowing how to respond. A large blush appeared on his cheeks that spread to his entire face.

“You would be a perfect husband for me Harry, and I would be a perfect husband for you,” Viktor continued. “I will give you everything that you will ever wish for, I will guide you the way you need to be guided, and love you the only way a husband can ever love you Harry.”

“B-But what about James?” Harry asked turning to Krum.

 Krum’s face had a jealous look for a second before vanishing. “He can visit,” he said. “He will always be welcomed to our house Harry, after you become my little husband. …Or would you prefer becoming my little wife?” The Bulgarian chuckled.

“Husband,” Harry blushed “But maybe you can convince me.” They chuckled for a bit and Harry looked up at Krum.. “But James… I don’t think I can leave him.”

“What is it between you and your brother? I see that you are always together. And during the ball he was glaring at me. Never once did he look at his date.”

“We’re just very protective of each other,” Harry said.

“He kisses you on the cheeks and forehead all the time, I do not like it,” Krum frowned. “And you kiss him back. That is not how brothers are supposed to act Harry.”

“We’re just very close,” Harry said. “For the longest time James and I only have each other.”

“You kiss him more than you kiss me,” Viktor said.

“I do not!” Harry said quickly. “I don’t kiss him on the lips like I do you.” And to prove it Harry moved in his blanket to kiss Krum. The Bulgarian sighed and pulled the little wizard into his arms. “Harry Potter what am I going to do with you?” he asked.

Harry just relaxed into his hold. “This is enough for now Viktor. I love you… but I also love my brother. It was just me and him against the world for more than you can know. Sometimes it still feels that way.”

“You don’t need to feel that way Moyata malka sŭpruga,” Viktor whispered. “I am here now.”

“I know,” Harry said with a small smile, “and I’m happy.”

They kissed again and the memory faded.

Ron’s cheeks were burning red as he looked up at Harry. Harry just sat down next to James, who was holding onto him tightly as Harry tried his best to keep from crying. Both Potters looked downtrodden but Ron couldn’t help but ask, his voice soft and cautious, “You loved Krum? What happened to him?”

Harry sniffled and looked at Ron. “Rumors started. We don’t know who started the rumors but after the second task there were various rumors about… about me and Viktor. That he was just using me to get to James, that I was just using him to help my brother; … that I was dirty, touched, unclean. All these horrible rumors kept coming out and we had no idea who started them. It wasn’t the Slytherins, Viktor asked and made sure that they weren’t lying to them, Fleur Delacour swore to James that it wasn’t her or anyone from her school and Viktor knew that it wasn’t from anyone form his school. They respect him too much to do so. We tried to weather it out… we even made plans for me to visit his family… but the rumors were too much for him. On the day they left Viktor brought me to an empty courtyard. I thought he wanted to finalize our plans and kiss me goodbye… but instead he just broke my heart.”

Harry waved his hand and the journal on Ron’s lap opened on its own revealing a moving image of Harry curried into a small ball crying in the middle of a courtyard. “He was my first… and only boyfriend,” Harry said.

“We still don’t know who started the rumors,” James said. “Harry was going to escape our uncle, our cousin if only for a few weeks… but instead he was forced to come back with me to that hellhole.”

Harry nodded and looked at Ron. “That was when we’ve learned that in the end, we only have each other to depend upon. To love. Because there is always a chance that everyone else might leave us heartbroken like Krum did.”

“Harry… I’m sorry,” Ron said.

“What for?” Harry asked. “You did nothing wrong.”

“Yeah but I’ve made you relive it through this… thing,” Ron said.

“It’s okay Ron, I’ve learned my lesson from Viktor,” Harry sighed. He looked down at his lap for a while before looking at Ron again. “Funny thing is… that was my first kiss… my real first kiss. And that’s all that Viktor and I did: kiss. He agreed to wait until I’m ready and older to go all the way.” Harry gave a long sigh and wiped any tears that began to form.

“Anyway, those journals are currently my masterpiece,” Harry said when he regained his emotions. “They work like pensieve, however they’re obviously more portable and subtler. I just place the copy of my memory into the journal onto a blank page and it’ll fill up as if I’ve written down every detail. Then, if I want to look at them again I have two options: Reading the memory or watching it. When it’s just James and me I just watch it but if there’s something I need to look at again and I’m in public… I’ll read the memory instead.”

“This is amazing Harry! Why didn’t you show Hermione and I this earlier?” Ron asked.

Harry looked at his lap again and blushed. “These are my private thoughts… there are many things here that I wouldn’t want to dare show you or Hermione. Viktor’s and my relationship being one of them. That and… it’s just too embarrassing to even think of. I mean you and Hermione… well only Hermione now, has this image of me and, well, I don’t want to ruin that for you.”

“But you have to show someone,” Ron said. “How about Professor McGonagall?”

“Maybe,” Harry said. “But I want to show her an empty one. That way there’s no way she’ll see… well you know.”

“Yeah, I do,” Ron chuckled. He looked at the journal again, marveling at it, and looked at Harry. “How did you make these?”

“How about I show you tomorrow?” Harry asked. “It’ll be easier to show than explain.”

“Alright Harry, it’s a deal,” Ron smirked. He gave Harry the journal back and yawned. “Man I’m tired… I think I’ll go to bed now. Night boys.”

“Night Ron,” James said.

Harry walked after Ron and said, “Wait! You said we’re brothers, right?” Ron nodded. Harry smiled and leaned up, kissing Ron’s cheek. “I always kiss my brother’s cheek goodnight,” he whispered. “Since I was four. Goodnight Ron.”

“Goodnight Harry,” Ron said, his voice unusually high and cheeks flushed red. Harry smiled as he closed the door behind him.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” James chuckled. “He might get the wrong idea.”

“Still… I trust him. I wouldn’t have shown him the journal anyway… or that memory,” Harry said.

James frowned and opened his arms which Harry climbed into. “Hey, don’t think about him now, okay? Viktor’s in the past. And I’m here with you now.”

“And always,” Harry said looking at his brother. “Still, it would have been nice knowing who started the rumors.”

“I know, I was so angry when I first heard them,” James sighed. “It was a bitch keeping them from Ron and Hermione. I didn’t want their pity making you feel worse.”

Harry smiled and said, “I didn’t know that… thank you James.”

“Harry, you should know at this point that I would do anything for you,” James said. “I only want you to be happy.”

“And I want you to be happy too,” Harry said.

James chuckled and said, “Well I’m happy right now. Are you?”

“Yeah, I am.”

“Then mission accomplished,” James declared. “The Potter Twins can sleep peacefully tonight.” Harry smiled and kissed James’s cheek. “Then goodnight… Captain Potter.”

“Goodnight Seeker Potter,” James said kissing Harry’s cheek.

Harry buried his head into James’s chest. There’s something about being surrounded by muscles that made Harry feel protected, feel safe. It was like the physical muscular mass were creating a surrounding barrier that protected Harry from the outside world. For some reason his mind began to wonder, and he started to think about what his friends would look like if they worked out like his brother… brothers. First Seamus… then Dean… Neville would look especially handsome Harry mused… and finally Ze and Dee. Harry’s mind filled with his mysterious friend and newest friend, wondering about who they were and what they really look like as he drifted off to sleep. The last thing he heard was James’s soft chuckles, “You know, I forgot to kiss Ron goodnight too… I’ll get him tomorrow morning.”

“What is wrong with me?” Draco groaned. He was in Zabini Manor walking back and forth completely agitated as Blaise watched on amused. “I talked with Potter—talked with him! And I actually liked it!? He’s supposed to be my enemy and now he’s making me a damn pensieve! What is wrong with me?”

The bedroom was large and had a king-sized bed with two nightstands on either side for Blaise alone. The bed’s canopy was Slytherin colors with a dark green roof and silver curtains. The floor was a dark oak professionally polished and the smoothest material his mother could buy. Draco was currently ranting on a large rug in front of an eloquent fireplace that had a loveseat cozily close. Blaise’s wardrobe and bookshelf was on the wall near the door while on the opposite wall is a large window that allowed moonlight to come in directly. To quote his mother, Blaise’s room is “a perfect room to seduce your lover, my little Blaise.”

“Nothing’s wrong with you,” Blaise smirked. “I just think that your icy-cold heart may be starting to melt.”

“But I can’t like him—I can’t even speak to him! I’m forbidden—look!” Draco pulled down his sleeve to Blaise.

“Blaise frowned and shook his head. “You really did it…”

“I was pressured to do it,” Draco said. “But it’s a great honor. …” His voice sound very forced and monotoned.

Blaise just looked at him and said, “If it helps, the Potters aren’t exactly very… Light friendly. I’ve saw them numerous times in Knockturn Alley since Year one.”

Draco stopped in his tracks and turned to Blaise, “What are you talking about?” he demanded.

“We talk a lot,” Blaise said. “And, well, they told me that they’ve frequent a couple of shops in Knockturn Alley. The Spiny Serpent, that bookstore with that giant tank of snakes, and Mr. Mulpepper’s Apothecary. They’ve been visiting those places a lot since first year.”

“How do you know that?” Draco demanded.

“Because they told me,” Blaise said.

“Oh right, when you’re Ze,” Draco sneered the name. “Honestly Zabini, why don’t you just tell them who you are instead of playing this stupid charade.”

Blaise’s face had a tint of shame before looking at his lap. Draco simply crossed his arms as his friend remained quiet. Blaise didn’t answer Draco’s question immediately. Blaise shook his head and sighed. “I can’t at this point. They’ll leave me.”

“And they should,” Draco said. “Who cares if they’re shopping at Knockturn Alley, they’re still as Light as they come.”

“Harry’s a Parselmouth,” Blaise said.

“I know that,” Draco said. “The whole school knows that.”

“He’s a… practicing Parselmouth,” Blaise said staring at his lap. “The twins don’t want anyone else to know… and I promised them that I wouldn’t tell anyone. If they learn that I’m a Slytherin… well the least harming thing they’ll do is break our friendship.”

“So you hide behind a mask, as if that isn’t more suspicious than being an actual Slytherin,” Draco said. Blaise just gave him a sad look. Draco sighed and shuffled on his feet for a moment before asking, “Potter’s… actually speaking Parseltongue? Like on a normal basis?”

“I just know that they have no qualms with it,” Blaise said. “Or at least Harry doesn’t. James on the other hand… he can’t speak it at all, or understand it.”

“That’s very strange,” Draco frowned.

“It is,” Blaise nodded. “But that doesn’t detract from the fact that if they learn that I’m a Slytherin… they’ll hate me forever. Or fear that I’ll use their information against them.”

“Information like what?” Draco asked.

Blaise looked at his door and pulled out his wand. Locking the door he turned to Draco and said, “You must promise never, never, repeat this information to anyone. Understand?”

“Of course, yeah,” Draco said.

Blaise looked around nervously as if scared to have someone overhear. “Harry was a Hatstall for one… well, nearly a Hatstall.”

“Everyone knows this, it was pretty obvious just staring at Potter with that hat on him,” Draco said.

“Well… you want to know which Houses the hat considered? Only the Twins and I know that,” Blaise said. “Or how about Harry’s first love? I know that too. I know their deepest fears, their most humiliating secrets, every desire they’ve ever felt. I know that, and I swore to keep those things secret. What would happen if they realize that I’m a Slytherin? All the trust that we’ve build up over the two years would be ruined. And James would do anything to keep Harry safe.”

Draco just stared at Blaise for a while before shaking his head. “You’re scared Zabini.”

“Of course I am!” Blaise ejaculated. “Not only am I scared of the twins breaking our relationship but I’m also scared of your bloody Dark Lord trying to actively kill them!”

“Blaise—“

“No don’t even start,” Blaise said. “Your Lord wants to kill my twins! Don’t even doubt it—hell your family wants to kill my twins!”

“Yeah but—“

“And what about you? Huh? You hate the Potters ever since First Year! And it just grew and grew and look at yourself!” Blaise yelled with sudden fury pointing an accusing finger at Draco’s wrist.

“I did not choose this!” Draco yelled. “I was forced, I had to restore my family’s honor which my father destroyed.”

“If you actually plan on doing that you’ll destroy it even more,” Blaise said. “Why do you think my mother did not take part of the first war, or taking part of this one?”

Draco just stared at him before shaking his head.

“Look, listen to me,” Blaise said. “I’m saying this because I care about you as well as the Potters. … I don’t like the Ministry, I don’t like Dumbledore and their current view of things. It’s too narrow-minded. But I am also neutral to your Lord’s extremist methods. It’s too black and white for me, I… we cannot… what’s the point?” Blaise said, slouching into his bed.

“No, go on,” Draco said frowning. He looked out of the window. The moon was high in the sky surrounded by twinkling stars. “I can’t think straight,” he muttered. “Ever since my aunt… brought me to him… It was awful Blaise, it hurt so much…” Draco looked down at his wrist frowning. “I never wanted this. My family… my father and aunt placed this life on me.”

Blaise looked hesitantly at Draco’s wrist and then back at Draco. “What did he tell you to do?” he asked.

Draco looked up at his friend, a look of extreme fear taking over his face. “Kill Dumbledore,” he whispered. “I… a sixteen-year-old boy… am supposed to kill Dumbledore. I don’t know how the hell I’m supposed to do that!”

Blaise frowned. “Do you think,” he said slowly, “that maybe he gave you this task… just for you to fail?”

Draco looked up at Blaise, “Why would he do that?”

“To punish your father… for failing,” Blaise said.

Draco sighed and looked at his clothed wrist. “Maybe,” he said. He shook his head and tried to clear his thoughts. Both he and Blaise were silent for a moment. Draco moved and sat on the edge of Blaise’s bed, his back to his friend as he stared out of the window to the moon and stars. The moment turned into minutes which turned into a half hour of silence, during which Draco tried his best to organize his thoughts. “Potter needs to give me that journal,” he sighed.

“You need one,” Blaise said agreeing with him.

More silence.

“What do you think of him… Harry… now that you two actually had a conversation?” Blaise asked. Draco was quiet. Blaise moved closer to his friend and said, “It is only us here. No Parkinson, no Nott, no anybody. Only us, not even the Dark Lord can hear us if he wanted to.”

Draco was quiet for a moment before saying, “He’s… nice. Very nice, and sweet.”

“You like him,” Blaise said with a teasing smile.

“I do not!” Draco huffed.

“It’s just us,” Blaise said again.

Draco stayed quiet for a minute. “Father said…”

“Just us,” Blaise repeated again.

“I never really thought about him that way,” Draco said again. “But after today… maybe?”

Blaise smirked and leaned back resting on his elbows, grateful for the relaxed atmosphere. “Well Draco, I’m just going to give you this piece of advice: Harry likes muscles. Not only are they aesthetically pleasing for him, but they give the boy a certain type of comfort being hugged by arms with muscles.”

“Muscles…” Draco repeated. He turned and gave Blaise a look. “Are you playing with me?”

“No, I’m not,” Blaise said. He looked at Draco’s lithe and slender body. “Right now even if you want Harry, it’ll be a very hard battle with those skinny arms.”

Draco became cross and said, “Potter would really reject me if I don’t have ‘muscles?’” He mocked the last word.

“Yeah, weird isn’t?” Blaise said. “Listen, I’m not allowed to tell you the full details… it just helps Harry feel safe and… he needs to feel safe.”

“But muscles?” Draco said again, thinking the notion entirely ridiculous.

“James started it,” Blaise explained. “So if you want to blame anyone, blame him. But yeah, in order to feel entirely safe with someone, Harry needs to be with a guy with muscles. Not like massive, just look like James.”

“Potter is massive,” Draco argued. “He’s like a thick bloody wall guarding those hoops.”

Blaise laughed and said “Please! He’s not a thick wall he’s more like a… well sculpted statue. Besides, I think a little muscle would look good on you.” Blaise gave a small knowing smile.

“Oh, and how do you expect me to get these muscles? Because I refuse to sweat Zabini,” Draco said.

“You’re going to have to, Malfoy,” Blaise said. “And if you want… I’m sure you will find a way. Now it’s late so I suggest we go to bed.”

“Alright,” Draco agreed. He moved towards the door.

“Draco,” Blaise said as Draco opened the unlocked door. Draco turned to him. “I just want you to know… that you’ll always have me. I will always be by your side.”

“Thank you Blaise,” Draco said sincerely. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” Blaise smiled as Draco closed the door behind him.

Draco sighed, feeling a heavy pressure fall upon his shoulders as he walked through the corridor and into the bedroom right next to Blaise’s. It was an exact match of Blaise’s down to the bed’s curtains being a silver color. Draco walked towards the fireplace and lit it, taking a poker and a full stroking the growing flames as it burned. Draco placed the poker to the side and sat down in the loveseat. He stared at the fire, the sound of the crackling wood filling the room, its sweet aroma drifting to Draco making him think of winter nights and childhood Christmases. His mind wondered as he stared at the flames. He thought of his mother, thought of his father, thought of all the things they’ve done for him. Then he thought of his aunt and the harsh grip she had on his arm as the Dark Lord pressed his wand against Draco’s wrist… then finally he thought of Harry Potter and the conversation they had in that pub. It was unexpecting, Draco never thought that he and Potter could even have a polite conversation. Potter even offered to create a pensieve journal for him.

Nobody offered to make him anything. His parents just brought him what he wanted, and the Dark Lord forced. His wrist twitched and a phantom pain started crawling from the center of Draco’s wrist towards the palm of his hand. Draco gapped in pain and winced as he tried to keep the tears from forming. He stood up quickly and walked towards a full-length body mirror next to a wardrobe that was filled with Draco’s clothes. Draco stared at himself in the mirror. A handsome aristocratic face, short platinum-blond hair, steely eyes. He was wearing a dark button-down shirt and dress pants under his robe. He began to undress, letting his robes fall to the ground before slowly unbuttoning his shirt revealing pale skin and a slender body. He allowed the shirt to slip off of his shoulders and join the robe on the ground. Draco stared at his naked torso. Slender, no fat, a straight line from his hairless chest to the top of his pants. No outlines, no hints of muscles just… slender, sleek, hairless skin. Draco bent down and untied his shoes slipping them off one by one and setting them to the side. He stood up, unhooked his belt and let it slide out of the hoops of his pants. He dropped the belt which fell with a light clinking sound and loosened his pants which fell to the ground as well. Draco stepped out of his pants and looked at his body. Slender. His legs were skinny there was no mass to them, it was almost effeminate. He turned to his side and stared at the mirror. No curves anywhere, just slender, flat and… that’s it. Draco turned to face the mirror again and frowned. He held out his arms and stared at them.

Draco spaced his legs shoulder-length apart. He stared at his reflection in the mirror: his arms stretched out, his legs separated. Then he moved his body down as if he was going to sit down, bending his knees and keeping his torso straight. He went as low as he could then stood up again. He went down as if he was sitting again then stood tall a second time, third time, tenth time, twentieth time, and so far until his legs were on fire.

Ron arrived early the next morning at the twins’ room. He didn’t even change out of his pajamas. “Show me how you made that journal!” he said excitedly.

Harry smiled tiredly and nodded. “Alright… let me just find my wand,” he said grabbing his glasses. He got out of his bed while James just started to wake up. Harry found his wand at a cluttered desk and picked it up.

“What’re you doing Harry?” James slurred sleepily.

“Making a new journal,” Harry said opening his trunk. He pulled out the two new journals and moved to the cluttered desk. “First, I need to carve some runes into them,” Harry said. “You remember how the journal you looked at had carvings on the front and back cover? They’re an important part of making the journal act like a pensieve.” Harry pressed his wand against the red leather and dragged it down, a mark appearing on the journal. Ron watched as Harry carved multiple runes onto the red leather. “The journal type doesn’t matter,” Harry said. “But I like the look of the red leather, and it has a lock that only the owner can open. Do you want me to explain the runes I’m making?”

“If you want,” Ron said watching intently. This was the most engaged or interested he’d ever been in Transfiguration, Charms, or Ancient Runes.

Harry smiled and stopped carving for a second. Using his free hand he pointed to a rune that looked like a weird creature. “This is a Demiguise. It’s an animal that can turn invisible, it is used to represent the number zero. These three lines that cross each other and a box around it, that’s for the letter M. What I’m doing is just spelling out the word ‘Memory’ on the front and back covers. The Demiguise and other runes I’ll use for numbers will just prepare the journal for the magical energy I’m going to have to put into them.”

“So you’re just writing ‘memory’ onto it?” Ron asked.

“No, I’m writing more,” Harry said looking back at the journal. Ron let him return to work as Harry finished carving different runes into the diary. When he finished with his task Harry placed his wand down and opened the journal to the first page. “Now the hard part,” Harry sighed with a slight frown. “Runes are useless without power, they hold none. It’s basically another alphabet. So right now it’s just a journal with words and numbers on its covers and spine and looks kinda cool.”

“I thought you said they’re important?” Ron said.

“Yeah, they’re important to make the journal look nice,” Harry said. “And they will be containers and fuel for the journal once all the spellwork is done. This part needs me to concentrate.” Harry tapped the page and started mumbling a string of words that Ron couldn’t hear. Harry tapped the first page multiple times before lifting his wand and waving it over in a circular motion. The pages flipped through rapidly the pure white paper quickly yellowing and twisting towards each other as they began to look haze. Ron watched in amazement as the pages all turned to a yellow smoke that stayed on top of the red leather cover that laid open without its pages. Harry moved his wand around and through the yellow smoke, molding it into a compact form whose edges began to ebb and flow like a lake’s tide. The compact yellow smoke with its ebbing sides began to change color, the yellow fading and slowly turning into a greenish color and then a blue. The blue compact smoke hovered there above the cover of the journal, but as Ron stared at it he realized that it wasn’t smoke anymore. It was more of a liquid as Harry continued to move his wand around, the sides of the substance moving violently mixing with each other. Harry slashed at the substance and it broke into two, both rippling as Harry pulled his wand away. Ron stared at Harry as sweat appeared on his forehead. His wand moved like a dance twirling between his fingers and the two substances as they moved under his command. The edges of the liquids began to become a hazy silver color that glittered a rainbow of colors in the early sunlight. Harry continued to move his wand and mutter whatever long chanted spell he was casting. The hazy silver color continued to spread across the blue liquid and Ron watched as it became a very weird… thing that wasn’t liquid nor was it a gas becoming a weird wisp. Harry controlled the wisps as they continued to glitter in the sunlight.

He moved his wand slowly towards the spine of the journal and the wisp followed, the two separate entities merging into one dancing cloud. Harry moved his wand from the spine to the edge of the front cover and half of the cloud moved along with it, he then lifted his wand, returned it to the spine and moved it to the edge of the back cover, the rest of the wisp following it. The journal laid there stationary as the silver wisps laid on top of it like a low hanging fog in the early morning after a storm. Harry glided his wand on top of the wisps. With his left hand, he gripped the front cover and slowly closed the journal. The silver wispy cloud slowly folded onto itself and was it became compact, transfigured back into white paper that never been touched. Harry continued until he closed the journal fully, locking the lock.

Exhausted, Harry dropped his wand onto the desk next to the journal and looked at Ron. His hair was coated with sweat and his chest lifted and fell with his heavy breaths. “There… it is done,” he said. “The journal… is now a pensieve. It takes a lot out of me… but I should be fine… after lunch.”

“Wicked…” Ron said. “So you can just put your memories in there and it’ll show?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Harry nodded. He patted the journal and said, “but this one is for Dee. The second one is for when my last one fills up. And I have…” Harry worked himself to get out of the chair and move to his trunk, taking out his latest journal. “Twenty pages left,” he finished his thought.

Harry brought the journal to the desk and opened to an empty page. He pressed his wand to his temple and pulled slowly, a memory following his wand. With a soft flick, the memory fell upon the empty pages which filled with words as yesterdays’ events flashed briefly. “Fifteen pages now,” Harry said.

Ron gave a low whistle. “Wicked Harry… I don’t think even Hermione could do this.”

“It took me a couple of years to perfect it,” Harry said. “But even so it is too exhausting to make multiple journals at once. Honestly right now all I want to do is eat and sleep.”

Ron chuckled and smirked. “Then let’s go downstairs and get some breakfast.”

“Good idea,” James said finally getting out of bed. “Harry, let’s go.”

“One second,” Harry said. “I just want to write a quick letter.” He took a piece of parchment and dipped a quill into an inkwell.

Dee,

I hope this package finds you well. I’m sending this to Ze first as Hedwig knows where his home is. Hopefully he can quickly give this to you. Here is your journal. To insert a memory simply press your wand at the temple of your forehead and think of the memory. Then, very slowly, pull your wand from your head. It is important to keep your hand steady or else the memory will be an incomplete one. When the last of your memory is siphoned from your mind your memory will only be connected to your wand, floating blissfully in the air. Make sure the wand is directly on top of the page and flick it downwards. The memory will break and merge with the page. A flash of your memory will show before disappearing leaving only the date and your memory in written format.

I hope that this will help you focus and clear your mind. I can’t wait to see you again on the Hogwarts Express, maybe you and Ze can finally tell me your names?

Yours,

Harry

Chapter Text

Chapter 5

“Good morning girl, what are you doing here,” Blaise smirked the following morning. He woke up to find a snowy white owl waiting quietly on his desk with a small parcel and letter. He got up and made his way over to the owl and examined the parcel. “You’re from Harry, aren’t you?” he asked the owl who just hooted tiredly.

“Well, let me get this untied and get you some food,” Blaise said taking the letter and parcel off of the snowy owl. He looked around and found a small bowl which he filled with owl treats. The owl started eating greedily as Blaise looked at the parcel. It was roughly the size of a normal book and on top was a message written in Harry’s chicken-scratch writing:

Ze, can you please give this package to Dee? It’s something that I promised I would make for him. And no peaking!

Love,

Harry

Blaise smirked and shook his head. “They only had one conversation and he’s already making stuff for Draco,” he said to the owl. Chuckling to himself he took the parcel and letter and walked out of his bedroom and to Draco’s. He knocked on the door.

“Come in,” Draco’s voice called out.

Blaise opened the door to see Draco sitting on his bed rubbing his legs, wincing slightly in pain. Blaise looked around and saw Draco’s clothes still on the floor by the mirror. “What are you doing?” Blaise asked.

“Nothing that isn’t your business,” Draco said looking up at Blaise. “What do you got there?” he asked noticing the parcel and letter.

“A gift from Harry to you,” Blaise smirked. “You two only had one conversation and already you have him sending gifts to you.”

Draco leapt out of the bed and walked towards Blaise, taking the letter and parcel. He opened the letter and read it carefully. “He made it… he actually made it,” Draco said looking at Blaise.

“Made what?” Blaise asked.

“My journal,” Draco said opening the parcel paper and revealing a red-leather bound journal with runes carved into it. Draco couldn’t help but let a smile form as he dragged his long pale fingers down the front cover of the journal. “We talked about it briefly… but the boy actually made it,” Draco whispered.

“He likes you,” Blaise said looking at the letter Harry written for Draco. “You guys only had one conversation and he already likes you.”

“Why do you say it like that? I can be extremely likable when I want to be Zabini,” Draco smirked at his friend. He stared down at the journal again, a soft smile gracing his face. Draco looked around and searched for his wand, which he found on a nightstand. Taking his wand, the journal, and Harry’s letter, Draco walked towards an empty desk and sat down. Blaise watched silently as his friend read the letter’s instructions again, opened to the first page, and pressed his wand at the temple of his forehead. He pulled back slowly, ever so slowly, as a silver-blue strand appeared connecting Draco’s wand and forehead. He continued to pull and pull until the strand’s end broke off of his head and hovered over the journal. With a flick both boys watched in amazement as the memory sank slowly towards the front page of the journal landing neatly in the center before the page absorbed it with a bright light, a scene from long ago playing briefly before being converted to words.

“Was that…”

“My first encounter with Potter, yeah,” Draco said. “I don’t know why I’ve picked that memory first but… it just seemed right.”

“You wish you could have changed it?” Blaise asked.

 Draco looked at Blaise. “I don’t know… maybe?” he said. Looking down at the journal again he sighed. “I don’t know what I’m feeling. I mean last night I… I actually sweated… a lot. I can’t begin to tell you how much my legs hurt.”

Blaise snickered and looked down at the journal. “Where do you think you and Harry would be if things went differently that night?” he asked.

“We would be friends… at least I hope we would be,” Draco said. “Potter would still be in bloody Gryffindor but… but maybe…”

“Maybe he would have told you his secrets, and the body you’re clearly working towards now would already been obtained, with Harry in your arms,” Blaise finished.

Draco looked at him for a moment before nodding. He looked at his wrist, “Maybe I would never have gotten this,” he also added solemnly.

Blaise took Draco’s wrist in his hand. “If I say that there’s a way to get rid of this, I would do it in a heartbeat Draco,” he said. “But I don’t know… but it can’t be impossible, can it? We’re powerful wizards for our age, and we have two exceptionally powerful twins who dabble in the Dark Arts. I’m sure they can help—will help, we’ll remove this mark and hopefully get our twins in return.”

“Our twins?” Draco asked.

Blaise nodded. “You want Harry, and I want James,” Blaise explained. “I’m confident that if we work together we’ll have our twins in our arms and that mark off of your wrist.”

“But the Dark Lord, what if he—“

“If he tries to come after us, then we’ll let Dumbledore fight him,” Blaise said. “If everything works out perfectly, they’ll just kill each other and the world will be a better place.”

Draco stared at Blaise completely shocked. “Blaise,” he whispered, “do you even know what you are suggesting?”

“Yeah, I do, and I have been thinking about it for a long time, nearly a year,” Blaise said. “I will not allow my twins—our twins now—to die in a war they want nothing to do with!”

“Blaise, listen to yourself,” Draco said fearfully, “you are talking about going against the Dark Lord—and Dumbledore! The two strongest wizards of our time!”

“I know,” Blaise said again. “But the point is getting Harry and James out of the damn war. If we can remove your mark than we can get the twins out of the war.”

Draco’s eyes shifted down to his Mark which was covered by the sleeve of his pajama top, the phantom pain still made his arm twitched. If there was any way, even minimal, that he could get rid of it… he turned to Blaise. “Alright… let’s say I agree to help you. What are we supposed to do?”

Blaise thought for a moment. “First… we need the twins on our side. And to do that… we’re going to have to tell them who we are—“

“As if that’ll work! They both hate me, hell Harry will probably tear the journal to shreds!” Draco said.

Blaise held up a hand and continued, “We have to tell them who we are, gently. It would only hurt us if we drag out the Ze and Dee thing, because then our twins will only love a fictional image of us. We need to tell them who we are sooner than later so we might as well tell them as soon as we can.”

“And when will that be?” Draco asked.

“On the Hogwarts Express,” Blaise answered. Draco didn’t respond or react, he just stared at Blaise scared. “Draco? Draco…” Blaise said.

“If we tell them… they might hate us forever, can you stand that?” Draco asked.

“It’s a risk I’m willing to take,” Blaise said.

“Alright… let’s do it,” Draco said. Blaise smiled and shook Draco’s hand.

“You’re doing the right decision, Draco. Trust me,” Blaise said.

“I hope you’re right. Now, leave me for a while. I am trying to make a habit of sweating and I don’t want anybody to witness it,” Draco said irritably. Blaise laughed and left the room. Alone Draco stood up from the journal and undressed. He closed his eyes pointed his wand at a couple of textbooks and transfigured them into those weight things that Potter—James, always yammered on about with Weasley. He lifted them up, finding them heavy, and proceeded to move around with them frowning at himself. I’m going to need someone’s help if I want to do this correctly, he thought begrudgingly.

The last week moved too fast for Harry. Before he knew it, he and James were in the Ministry cars again gliding away from the Burrow, Bill and Fleur waving goodbye. There was no cheerful Hagrid waiting for them at King’s Cross Station. Instead two grim-faced, bearded Aurors in dark Muggle suits moved forward the moment the cars stopped and, flanking the party, marched them into the station without speaking.

“Quick, quick, through the barrier,” Mrs. Weasley said, who seemed a little flustered by this austere efficiency. “Harry and James had better go first, with—“

She looked inquiringly at one of the Aurors, who nodded briefly, seized Harry’s upper arm, and attempted to steer him toward the barrier between platforms nine and ten.

“I can walk, thanks,” Harry said irritably, jerking his arm out of the Auror’s grip. James replaced the Auror’s hand grabbing his brother’s arm and said, “Only I can strongarm him.” They steered their trunks through the barrier, ignoring their silent companions, and found themselves, a second later, standing on platform nine and three quarters, where the scarlet Hogwarts Express stood belching steam over the crowd.

Hermione and the Weasleys joined him within seconds. Without waiting to consult their grim-faced Auror, James and Harry motioned to Ron and Hermione to follow them up the platform, looking for an empty compartment.

“We can’t James,” Hermione said, looking apologetic. “Ron and I’ve got to go to the prefects’ carriage first and then patrol the corridors for a bit.”

“Oh yeah, I forgot,” James said.

“You’d better get straight on the train, all of you, you’ve only got a few minutes to go,” Mrs. Weasley said, consulting her watch. “Well, have a lovely term, Ron. … James, Harry, you’re coming to us for Christmas, it’s all fixed with Dumbledore, so we’ll see you two quite soon.”

“Okay Mrs. Weasley,” Harry said as they board the train. Harry waved until the train had turned a corner and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were lost to view, then turned to see where thee others had got to. James tapped his shoulder and led him down the corridor.

People stared shamelessly as the twins approached. They even pressed their faces against the windows of their compartments to get a better look at them. Harry had expected an upswing in the amount of gaping and gawping they would have to endure this term after all the “Chosen Ones” rumors in the Daily Prophet, but he did not enjoy the sensation of standing in a very bright spotlight.

“Here’s a compartment,” James said pointing to an empty one. They’ve gotten in and James hoisted their trunks into the luggage rack before grabbing his brother and pulling him on his lap as they sat down. “They keep staring,” James said grumpily.

“I know… I hate it,” Harry sighed. He turned and kissed James’s cheek. “Should we give them a show?” he smirked.

“No I don’t think so, as much as I would love to… I think I like keeping you nice and innocent,” James smirked.

“James, brother, I am far from innocent,” Harry flirted. He pressed a finger against James’s chest and drew it down. “I can show you James.”

James gulped, his pants tightening as he held onto his brother tighter. “I… Harry…”

Harry smiled and kissed James again. “It’s only us,” he whispered. “Always us.”

James just nodded. “Yeah… it is,” he said. Harry kissed him again. “Harry, what’s gotten into you?” he asked.

Harry sighed and slipped off of James’s lap. “I don’t know… I’m just… I don’t know.”

James looked at his brother before giving a knowing smirk, “Frustrated? It’s okay Harry, everyone has needs.”

“Yeah but ever since I’ve met Dee… my needs seemed to umm increased?” Harry said questioningly.

James laughed. “Increased? Well Harry… I never thought you were up for that. But I understand. Between you and me, he’s really cute.”

“But not as hot as Ze?” Harry asked. James laughed and smiled. “Yeah, Ze’s hot as well… but neither of them compare to you.”

Harry blushed but agreed. He looked between himself and James before just relaxing on his brother’s shoulder. They both looked outside the window and watched as the scenery rushed by, turning into a blur. Before they could get into a comfortable haze of between awake and asleep, there was a disturbance outside their compartment door; a group of fourth-year girls was whispering and giggling together on the other side of the glass.

“You ask them!”

“No, you!”

“I’ll do it!”

And one of them, a bold-looking girl with large dark eyes, a prominent chin, and long black hair pushed her way through the door.

“Hi Harry, James, I’m Romilda, Romilda Vane,” she said loudly and confidently. “Why don’t you guys join us in our compartment? You don’t have to sit alone,” she added in a stage whisper and a wink.

“No,” both boys answered at once. “We’re waiting for our friends,” Harry added.

“Then why don’t you guys just wait with us?” the girl asked. “I’m sure it’ll be better than waiting alone.”

“No thank you,” James said. “We rather be alone with each other than with you girls. Good bye.”

“Oh…” the girl said, looking very surprised. “Oh. Okay.”

And she withdrew, sliding the door closed behind her. “Honestly, some people,” James sighed. He looked down at his brother and said, “Where were we?”

“Just staring out the window waiting for Ron and Hermione,” Harry said. He moved so he took the whole seat, his head on James’s lap. “Maybe I can make something while we wait?” he asked pulling out his wand.

James looked down at Harry and said, “I know some things you can make Harry, but you’ll not like them.”

“I’m trying to be serious here,” Harry said. “Take out a piece of parchment or something, I’ll make it dance.”

Patrolling the train’s corridors must be one of the worst things. Ron was extremely bored as he walked down the train looking at all of the compartments as he passed by. Malfoy wasn’t in the prefect’s carriage, which only made Ron angry. “Stupid git probably things he’s too good to do these stupid things,” Ron grumbled. How Hermione talked Ron into actually doing this, he will never understand. His stomach began to rumble and he groaned. “Need lunch,” he muttered as he looked into the next corridor.

In it was a boy with the most perfect body that Ron ever seen. He was small and lithe with clear light skin, a taunt belly and frame that screamed flexible and mousy hair. He was only, surprisingly, only wearing a tight pair of white briefs that hugged his perky ass perfectly as the boy was bent down busy with his shoe. Ron just stood there like a horny wolf staring at the small perky globes that presented themselves to him, his pants tightening very quickly. Done with whatever he was doing, the boy stood up and turned around. It was Colin Creevey.

“Ron!” the boy shrieked. “W-what are you doing? I’m just getting dressed—“

Ron gapped and just looked at Colin’s body. Small for a fifteen year old and completely hairless’ Colin had two dusty pink nipples that begged for attention and a smooth collarbone that needed to be kissed. In that moment Ron felt something stir deep within him. “Colin,” he said his voice deep despite his sudden nervousness. “Would you—uhh would you like to go out?”

“With you?” Colin asked eyeing Ron’s muscular body. He gave a smile. “Sure, why not. … Can I get changed now?” Ron just nodded. “Great! See you at Hogwarts,” Colin smiled. Ron just nodded again and left the compartment.

What just happened? Ron thought to himself as he quickly finished his patrol. He couldn’t believe what just happened: he just saw Colin and blurted out the question. He never even thought of Colin before, let alone in that way. He found James and Harry in an empty compartment and sat down.

“Anything the matter Ron?” James asked.

“I asked Colin Creevey for a date,” Ron said blankly.

“What?” Harry said sitting up straight.

“I just… I saw Colin bending down—such a perfect butt—and I just asked,” Ron said. “I don’t know what was going on with me, I just asked.”

James and Harry shared a look before looking at Ron. “Well,” James began, “at least you asked a cute boy.”

“Yeah, Colin might be annoying but he’s very cute,” Harry agreed.

“So it’s not too bad,” James smiled. “Who knows, the boy might be a submissive like Harry here—ow!”

“Don’t,” Harry warned, Ron noticed that a paper figure kicked James in the cheek. James rubbed his cheek as he shot a glare at his brother.

“Anyway… it might be good for you Ron,” James finished. “Dating Creevey.”

“Who’s dating Creevey?” Hermione asked as she came into the compartment and took the seat next to Ron.

“Ron is,” Harry said.

“You are?” Hermione asked turning to him.

Ron looked between the three and just slumped in his seat. “Don’t ask about it. …Wish the lunch trolley would hurry up, I’m starving.” He looked at James and Harry. “Guess what? Malfoy’s not doing prefect duty. He’s just sitting in his compartment with the other Slytherins, we saw him when we passed.”

“Really?” Harry asked interested. It was not like Malfoy to pass up the chance to demonstrate his power as prefect, which he had happily abused all the previous year.

“What did he do when he saw you?” James asked.

“The usual,” Ron said indifferently, demonstrating a rude hand gesture. “It’s not like him though, is it?”

“Weird,” Harry mused.

Before Harry could say anything else, the compartment door slid open again and a breathless third-year boy stepped inside.

“I’m supposed to deliver these to Harry and James Potter,” he faltered as her eyes met Harry’s and he turned scarlet. He was holding two scrolls of parchment tied with violet ribbon. Perplexed, Harry took both scrolls and gave James his and the boy stumbled back out of the compartment.

“What is it?” Ron demanded, as Harry unrolled his.

“An invitation,” Harry said.

Harry,

I would be delighted if you would join me for a bit of lunch in compartment C.

Sincerely,

Professor H.E.F. Slughorn

“Slughorn wants us?” James frowned, looking at his brother.

“Who’s Slughorn?” Ron asked.

“New teacher,” Harry said. “Well, I suppose we’ll have to go, won’t we?”

“Yeah I guess so,” James said. They both stood up and the paper figure Harry made floated in the air after them.

“Uhh, Harry?” Ron said pointing to the figure. Harry turned to see it. ”Oh!” he exclaimed. With a swish of his wand the paper figurine unfolded itself and drifted towards the ground as a blank, flat piece of paper.

“Harry, when did you—“

“Later Hermione,” Harry blushed as he and James walked out of the compartment. James grabbed Harry’s arm and guided him through the packed corridors, pushing through the people waiting for the lunch trolley. When they reached compartment C, they saw at once that they were not Slughorn’s only invitees, although, judging by the enthusiasm of Slughorn’s welcome, the twins were the most warmly anticipated.

“Harry, m’boy!” Slughorn said, jumping at the sight of them so that his great velvet-covered belly seemed to fill all the remaining space in the compartment. His shiny bald head and great silvery mustache gleamed as brightly in the sunlight as the golden buttons on his waistcoat. “Good to see you, good to see you! And James here you are too! So glad you both could be here m’boys!”

At a gesture from Slughorn, they sat down next to each other. Harry looked around at their fellow guests. He recognized a Slytherin from their year, a tall black boy with high cheekbones and long, slanting eyes (Blaise, that’s his name, Harry thought. He reminds me of Ze); there were also two seventh-year boys Harry did not know and, squashed in the corner beside Slughorn and looking as though she was not entirely sure how she had got there, Ginny.

“Now, do you know everyone?” Slughorn asked Harry and James. “Blaise Zabini is in your year, of course—“

“Hello,” Zabini said, seemingly ignoring the principle that Gryffindors and Slytherins hate each other. “Nice to see you two again.” For some reason his voice sounded familiar to Harry—too familiar.

“This is Cormac McLaggen, perhaps you’ve come across each other—? No?”

McLaggen, a large wiry-haired youth with a handsome face, raised a hand and offered it to Harry, who took it, and gave a strong grip of a handshake.

“—and this is Marcus Belby, I don’t know whether—?”

Belby, who was thin and nervous-looking, gave a strained smile.

“—and this charming young lady tells me she knows you two!” Slughorn finished.

Ginny grimaced at Harry and James from behind Slughorn’s back.

“Well now, this is most pleasant,” Slughorn said cozily. “A chance to get to know you all a little better. Here, take a napkin. I’ve packed my own lunch; the trolley, as I remember it, is heavy on licorice wands, and a poor old man’s digestive system isn’t quite up to such things. …Pheasant, Belby?”

Belby stared and accepted what looked like half a cold pheasant.

“I was just telling young Marcus here that I had the pleasure of teaching his Uncle Damocles,” Slughorn told Harry and James, now passing around a basket of rolls. “Outstanding wizard, outstanding, and his Order of Merlin most well-deserved. Do you see much of your uncle, Marcus?”

“Not… not much of him… Er… he and my dad don’t get on very well, you see, so I don’t really know much about…”

His voice tailed away as Slughorn gave him a cold smile and turned to McLaggen instead.

“What is this?” Harry whispered to James as they broke a roll for each other.

“His new collection from the looks of it,” James whispered back. “Belby’s not going to make it.”

“No he will not,” Harry whispered back. He felt eyes on him and glanced at McLaggen. “He keeps staring at me… it’s weird,” he said pointing to Cormac who was talking to Slughorn but smiling at Harry. James followed Harry’s eyes and listened to Cormac for a while.

“—We went with Bertie Higgs and Rufus Scrimgeour—this was before he became Minister, obviously—“

“I think he’s trying to impress,” James whispered as Slughorn passed around a tray of small pies, somehow missing Belby.

“Impress who?” Harry whispered. He took a pie, cut it in half, and traded his half for half of his brother’s.

“Slughorn… you… both,” James whispered. “The weird thing is Zabini.”

“Yeah I get what you mean… he looks so familiar,” Harry whispered. “If only I had my journal with me then I could look back.”

“Yeah, your journals would be very useful right now,” James said frowning slightly at Zabini, who was listening intently at Cormac McLaggen’s story of hunting nogtails with his Uncle Tiberius and the Minister of Magic. The twins stared at Zabini trying to figure out why he sounds and looks so familiar.

Everyone here seemed to have been invited because they were connected to somebody well-known or influential—everyone except Ginny. Zabini, who was interrogated after McLaggen (not that that didn’t stop the boys from staring at the twins), turned out to have a famously beautiful witch for a mother (from what Harry could make out, she had been married seven times, each of her husbands dying mysteriously and leaving her mounds of gold).

Slughorn turned to the twins and said, “And now, “Harry and James Potter! Where to begin? I feel I barely scratched the surface when we met over the summer!” He contemplated the twins for a moment as though they were a particularly large and succulent piece of pheasant, then said, “’The Chosen Ones,’ they’re calling you two now!”

The boys said nothing. Belby, McLaggen, and Zabini were all staring at them.

“Of course,” Slughorn said, watching the twins closely, “there have been rumors for years. …I remember when—well—after that terrible night—Lily—James—and you two survived—and the word was that you must have powers beyond the ordinary—Anyway, such rumors this summer. Of course, one doesn’t know what to believe, the Prophet has been known to print inaccuracies, make mistakes—but there seems little doubt, given the number of witnesses, that there was quite a disturbance at the Ministry and that you two were there in the thick of it all!”

The twins, who could not see any way out of this without flatly lying, nodded but still said nothing. Slughorn beamed at them.

“So modest, so modest, no wonder Dumbledore is so fond—you were there, then? But the rest of the stories—so sensational, of course, one doesn’t know quite what to believe—this fabled prophecy, for instance—“

“We never heard a prophecy,” Ginny said. “I was there too, and all this ‘Chosen Ones’ rubbish is just the Prophet making this up as usual.”

“You were there too, were you?” Slughorn said with great interest, looking at Ginny, but she sat clam-like before his encouraging smile.

Slughorn began a long-winded trip down memory lane as his talk of the Daily Prophet turned towards the various famous students he had, but Harry had the distinct impression that Slughorn had not finished with them, and that he had not been convinced by Ginny.

The afternoon wore on with more anecdotes about illustrious wizards Slughorn had taught, all of whom had been delighted to join what he called the “Slug Club” at Hogwarts. The twins could not wait to leave, but neither could think of how to do so politely. McLaggen and Zabini kept staring at them. Finally the train emerged from yet another long misty stretch into a red sunset, and Slughorn looked around, blinking in the twilight.

“Good gracious, it’s getting dark already! I didn’t notice that they’d lit the lamps! You’d better go and change into your robes, all of you. McLaggen, you must drop by and borrow that book on nogtails. Harry, James, Blaise—any time you’re passing. Same goes for you, miss,” he twinkled at Ginny. “Well, off you go, off you go!”

“Glad that’s over,” James said as he stretched. “I don’t think I could have survived another hour listening to his ‘great students.’”

“An hour? Try being stuck next to him,” Ginny said.

“How come you ended up in there, Ginny?” Harry asked.

“He saw me hex Zacharias Smith,” Ginny said. “You remember that idiot from Hufflepuff who was in the D.A.? He kept on and on asking about what happened at the Ministry and in the end he annoyed me so much I hexed him—when Slughorn came in I thought I was going to get detention, but he just thought it was a really good hex and invited me to lunch! Mad, eh?”

“Better reason then most,” Harry shrugged. He looked down the corridor to see Zabini standing there, waiting. “What do you want, Zabini?” he said sharply.

“To have a civil conversation with you and James, I am allowed that, aren’t I?” Zabini asked.

James narrowed his eyes as he took a step towards Zabini, standing next to Harry. “I honestly don’t know, snake. How do we know you’ll won’t just hex us or something?”

“I’ll let you hold me wand,” Zabini said at once, pulling out his wand by the tip and holding the handle out towards the twins. James looked at the wand for a moment. His eyes studied Zabini for a long while before turning to Ginny. “We’ll see you later,” he said to her.

“James… you sure?” Ginny asked.

“I’m sure. Harry, take his wand,” James ordered. Harry took a step and snatched Zabini’s wand. Zabini held both his hands out and smiled. “Shall we look for an empty cabinet to talk?” he asked.

“You first,” James said pulling out his own wand and aiming it at Zabini. The Slytherin just smiled and turned his back to the boys and started walking. Harry and James followed, the older twin’s wand held outright as the three walked down the corridors. After five minutes Blaise stopped at a compartment and looked inside. “This one is empty,” he said.

“In,” James ordered, flicking his wand. Zabini just rolled his eyes but walked inside, sitting down on one side of the compartment and Harry and James taking the other side. “Talk,” James said.

Zabini smiled and said, “I will but it will take a while and require some explanation, James.”

“Don’t call me that, Zabini,” James said.

“But I call you that all the time, you see,” Zabini said. He frowned and looked at the two of them. “Doesn’t my voice sound familiar to you guys? At all?”

James and Harry looked at each other. “Well…” Harry began.

“No, it doesn’t,” James snipped.

Zabini’s frown deepened and sighed. “After being friends for two years you’d think you would have memorized my voice. I mean, I’ve memorized both of yours… maybe it was because I’ve always worn a mask.”

“What are you talking about?” James asked irritated.

“Harry, James, it’s me… Ze. From the pub Devilish Intensions,” Zabini said. Harry just stared at him. “You… you’re Ze?” he asked.

“Yeah, I am,” Zabini said. “Ze, Zabini… not that much of a stretch.”

“Why are you telling us now?” Harry asked. “Why even tell us at all?”

“He’s trying to threaten us Harry,” James said. “Look, he’s a Slytherin! I bet… I bet his friendship with us was all a lie or something. And now that he knows everything he wants to blackmail us or something.”

“I would never do that!” Zabini yelled. “You think that I would honestly tell your secrets to anybody? I didn’t even tell Dee after he asked about them!”

“How can we know you’re telling the truth?” Harry asked.

“Because it’s me, Ze, your friend for the past two years… I care so much about you two, do you think that I would do anything to ruin that?” Zabini asked. James sighed and looked at his twin brother. “Harry…”

Harry stood up and closed the blinds over the compartment door as well as the blinds for the window. He locked the door as well and pulled out his own wand. Zabini just sat peacefully still as Harry aimed his own wand at him and whispered, “Veritasermo.” A clear fog slowly drifted from Harry’s wand toward Zabini who breathed it in without any struggle. “Why are you here?” Harry asked.

“I wanted to speak with James and Harry Potter,” Blaise said, looking at James and Harry, meeting both their eyes. “I want to show them who I really am.”

“And who are you?” James asked.

“Blaise Zabini, son of Lucrezia Zabini and heir to the Zabini family. I am a Slytherin in my sixth year. I am also Ze to Harry and James Potter.”

“Are you in support of Voldemort?”

“No.”

“Are you in support of Dumbledore?”

“No.”

“Who do you support then?”

“My mother and I support neither Dumbledore nor the Dark Lord, instead taking a neutral stance in this matter.”

“Have you told our secrets to any Death Eater or Death Eater supporter?” Harry asked.

“I have told no Death Eater or supporter of Harry and James Potter’s secrets,” Blaise said. “I have only told Draco Malfoy hints of them, as he wishes to flee the Dark Lord.”

“Draco Malfoy?” Harry said.

“Why would Draco Malfoy want to run away from Voldemort? And why did you tell him hints?” James demanded.

“He’s scared. He does not want to be with the Dark Lord nor any of his followers. As for why I told him, it is because Draco Malfoy is Dee.”

“Dee is Malfoy?” Harry whispered in disbelief.

“Yes.”

“Is Draco Malfoy affiliated in any way to the Dark Lord or the Death Eaters?” James asked. Blaise looked at him.

“Draco Malfoy was forced to become a Death Eater after his father’s imprisonment. It was to humiliate his father. Draco has been given an impossible task but is currently looking for a way to get rid of his Dark Mark.”

“Draco has a Dark Mark?” Harry asked.

“Yes.”

“Malfoy’s a bloody Death Eater… knew it would happen one day,” James muttered darkly.

“Why would Draco Malfoy want to remove the Dark Mark?” Harry asked.

“It is a source of shame for him. Draco Malfoy wants nothing to do with the war. He told me his Aunt Bellatrix held him down as You-Know-Who gave him the mark.”

“Why should we believe what Malfoy is saying?” James asked.

“Because he is exercising,” Blaise said looking at Harry. “Harry Potter likes muscles. It makes him feel safe, so Draco Malfoy is exercising to build muscles and make Harry Potter feel safe.”

“Dee is… Draco Malfoy is doing this for me?” Harry asked.

“Yes.”

“Why?” James asked.

“Draco doesn’t know,” Blaise said. “He’s just very scared. He won’t tell me everything that is going on; because of his Dark Mark and conflicting feelings—Draco is at a lost.”

“What conflicting feelings?” Harry asked.

Blaise looked at him. “He said that he wished he could change your first meeting. That he can make a better impression on you and become your friend instead of your bully.”

Harry stared at Blaise, lost for words. He bit his bottom lip and looked at stuttered as he tried to ask his next question. “Is this… is this true? Does Draco Malfoy wishes to be my friend?”

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you tell us who you are before?” James asked.

“I was afraid,” Blaise said. “I was afraid that if you two knew who I really am that you wouldn’t give me a chance, that you would yell at me or hate me because I’m in Slytherin. After our friendship formed I became scared of breaking our friendship and losing you.”

“Why are you afraid of losing us?” James asked.

“Because I love you, both of you,” Blaise said. “I care deeply for you as if you were my family.”

James leaned back in his seat and exhaled through his nose. He looked at Harry. “What should we do?” he asked.

“I don’t know… Zabini is Ze. He knows everything and… and I don’t think either of us wants to lose Ze,” Harry said. Biting his lip again he stared at his lap for a long, silent moment as he contemplated what to do. Then, slowly, he looked up at his brother. “I think we should believe him… that we should just continue our friendship with Ze… Blaise like normal.”

“But what about Malfoy?”

“I’ll deal with him,” Harry said. “If what he’s saying is true, then Malfoy might be in more trouble than we can realize.”

“Fine… it’s your call,” James said. He turned to Blaise. “Look Zabini, Harry and I care a lot about you. And if you do anything to hurt Harry, I will hunt you down. Understand?”

“Yes.”

“Will you do anything to hurt Harry?”

“Never.”

“Good,” James said, turning to his brother he said, “You can stop the spell now.”

“Finite Incantatem,” Harry said.

Blaise’s senses came back to him and he smiled. “Thank you… seriously,” he said.

James just looked at Blaise for a moment. “Any more secrets you’re holding form us, Ze?”

Blaise frowned. “No, there aren’t. Look James, Harry, I’m so sorry for lying to you guys but it’s the only way I knew how that I could get close to you guys. … Besides… during that time I was… you know, still… in the closet.”

“Ohh,” Harry said, feeling sympathetic for Blaise. He looked at James and said, “You can’t blame him for that, can you?”

“For wanting to hide while in the closet? No, I can’t,” James said. “But you should have told us, Zabini. If you just told us when you’ve came out, we wouldn’t be in this situation.”

“Would you have stayed with me?” Blaise asked, crossing his arms.

“I…”

“We don’t know,” Harry said honestly.

“And because of that, I was… am afraid,” Blaise said. He leaned forward and said, “Listen, I love you guys very much. And because of that, I’m deeply afraid of doing any action that would destroy or ruin that. I’m sorry James, I really am… I just don’t want to lose you.”

Harry looked at his brother. James just stared at his wand which now laid on his lap. Harry sighed and stood up, sitting down next to Blaise. “I believe you,” he whispered. His voice caused James to look up. Harry stared at him expectedly. James looked between his brother and Blaise before standing up and sitting on Blaise’s other side. “I believe you too,” he muttered.

“Thank you,” Blaise smiled. He wiped away any tears that threatened to show and wrapped an arm around both Potter twins bringing them into a hug. “This means so much to me! Thank you, James, Harry.” The twins returned the hug and Harry smiled.

“Just no more secrets, alright?” James asked.

“Of course, yeah,” Blaise nodded. “Just can you do me one thing? Keep the information about Draco to yourself. … Let him tell you Harry when he’s ready, alright?”

“Okay,” Harry nodded. “But I’m not going to wait forever.”

Blaise nodded in agreement and the three friends stood to leave the compartment. Harry and James hugged Blaise separately one last time before leaving first, heading towards the front of the train where their compartment was whereas Blaise turned to leave to the back, smiling to himself as the hardest part of his plan is over and all that remained was making James Potter fall in love with him.

Chapter Text

Chapter 6

When the twins returned to their compartment, they’ve told Ron and Hermione what happened at Compartment C, both boys agreeing to keep out their conversation with Blaise for now. They will tell Ron and Hermione about that later… for now Harry was worried about both McLaggen’s stares and Draco Malfoy. He only told Ron and Hermione about McLaggen’s staring.

“That’s just creepy mate,” Ron said. “You think he fancies you?”

“Maybe… I don’t know,” Harry said. “If he does… I don’t know how to feel about that. Do you, James?”

James frowned and crossed his arms. “I don’t know… I don’t know much about McLaggen. Do any of you guys?” he asked looking at Ron and Hermione, who both shook their heads. “Well… Harry looks like we’re just going to have to ask around.”

Harry nodded, “Yeah… looks like it.”

They changed into their robes and the train station slowed to a stop as it came closer to Hogsmeade Station. Harry and James stuck close together as the normal chaos of students exiting the train occurred. The four managed to find a carriage all to themselves. Harry looked out the window to see Blaise and Malfoy entering a carriage with Crabbe and Goyle. He frowned as he remembered Blaise’s confession about Malfoy. “Harry? What you thinking of?” Ron asked, breaking his thoughts.

“Hmm? Oh nothing,” Harry blushed. He looked out the window one last time before turning to Ron. “Do you think people change?” he asked. “Like if a person was a real prat, do you think it’s possible for him to turn into an actual human being?”

“Well, anything’s possible Harry,” Hermione said. “I mean, we surely aren’t the same people as when we were eleven. I mean, look at James and Ron for physical proof,” she added with a small blush. “So I think it is possible for a guy to change from… a prick… into a decent person. Why? Who are you talking about?”

“No one… just a guy I heard about,” Harry said vaguely. James looked at Harry, a puzzling look in his eyes. “Harry…”

“I told him… if he wants to talk with me he can,” Harry whispered. “But I won’t wait forever.”

James nodded and looked at Ron. “So, any ideas on where you’ll be taking Creevey for your date?” he said, wanting to change the subject.

Ron blushed and bit his lip. “I don’t know maybe somewhere where we can talk… get to know each other… make sure I’m not making a mistake,” he said muttering the last part.

James and Harry laughed while Hermione frowned. “You better not be playing on his emotions, Ron,” she warned.

“I’m not! I’m not don’t worry,” Ron said casually. He leaned back, his muscles flexing. Harry blushed and bit his lip as the need to touch the muscles came and went. He shuffled in his seat so he was closer to James, their arms touching. He felt a little be calmer at the contact. His lips curled upward in a smile and he rested his head on James’s shoulder. “So James,” Ron said. “Any idea on when the Quidditch Tryouts will be?”

“Haven’t thought of it yet,” James said. “I think I want to learn more about McLaggen first to be honest. If he’s after my brother, I want to make sure he’s a guy who’ll make Harry feel safe.”

“Seems good,” Ron nodded. He looked at Harry and gave him a confident smile, “Want me to rough him up a bit if it comes to it?”

“Ron!”

“What? It’s a joke, Hermione,” Ron said, flinching under Hermione’s narrow glare. Hermione looked unconvinced but she stopped glaring.

“I don’t think I’ll need you to do that Ron,” Harry said. “That’s why I got James here for.”

“Exactly,” James smirked. He looked outside the carriage. “Finally can see the castle,” he said.

“Good, I’m starving,” Ron said. “Hope the sorting goes fast so we can eat.”

“Honestly Ron,” Hermione sighed shaking her head slightly. “It’s as if you only think with your stomach.”

The carriages rolled to a stop in front of the gates of Hogwarts. Harry looked out the window to see Filch, the caretaker of Hogwarts, standing outside the gates holding Sensory Sensors, poking and prodding the students as they’ve walked through the gates and onto Hogwarts grounds. Filch like to poke students he particularly didn’t like extra hard with the Sensory Sensors, which only went off once as he prodded Goyle, who had a shrunken head which Filch confiscated. When it was James and Harry’s turn Filch poked them both hard in the ribs with the Sensors before allowing them to continue up the path to the castle. Harry was still rubbing his body as they went into the Entrance Hall, followed the crowd through it, and into the Great Hall. Harry looked up at the staff table and grinned at Hagrid, who waved at him and James. Harry was surprised to see the Divination teacher, Professor Trelawney, sitting on Hagrid’s side’ she rarely left her tower room, and he had never seen her at the start-of-term feast before. She looked as odd as ever, glittering with beads and trailing shawls, her eyes magnified to enormous size by her spectacles. Having always considered her a bit of a fraud, Harry had been shocked to discover at the end of the previous term that it had been she who had made the prediction that caused Lord Voldemort to kill Harry and James’ parents and attack the twins themselves. The knowledge had made him even less eager to find himself in her company, but thankfully, this year he and James would be dropping Divination. Her great beaconlike eyes swiveled in his direction; he hastily looked away toward the Slytherin table where Zabini and Malfoy were already sitting down. An odd feeling bubbled in his stomach as he thought of Malfoy.

There was a general loudness of chatter as the last of the returning students sat down to their seats. Dumbledore stood up, raised his hands, and a silence fell. The doors opened and Professor McGonagall walked into the Great Hall shepherding the new students between the four tables and towards the Sorting Hat. Harry briefly wondered how his life would have changed if he allowed the hat to place him in the house the Hat wanted him to be. Would the rumors be better or worse? Would Krum have stayed with him in fourth year? The two would have had more opportunities to talk during meals, so maybe. But more importantly, would he and James have the relationship they did now?

The last question scared Harry the most. He didn’t want to think about any other relationship with James than the one he currently had. His older brother was his rock, his constant source of love and strength. Anywhere James is, that is where Harry’s home will be found. Their relationship is perfect, needed… just the two of them against the world.

Harry watched as the Sorting Hat sang its song, and the long progress of the First years being sorted began. Harry only half-paid attention, his mind elsewhere. He cheered with the Gryffindors when a student was sorted into them, but he mostly kept quiet, his eyes staring out towards the Slytherin Table. If he had to be honest with himself, he is more Slytherin than Gryffindor sometimes. The spells he cast… his Parseltongue… he never felt guilty or even bad using them. He even wanted to learn more but… but would that cause him to become a Dark Wizard?

“Harry? Anything the matter? The Sorting’s over,” James’s voice snapped Harry out of his thoughts. He looked around to see food in front of them, Ron already eating.

“Ohh, oops,” Harry said.

“What were you doing Harry?” James asked softly.

“Nothing, just thinking about stuff. Nothing for you to worry about James,” Harry said. James frowned but he kept quiet. He left Harry to his thoughts as the two ate their dinner. Harry couldn’t help but get an odd feeling as he ate, as if somebody was staring at him constantly. Looking around, his first thought was to look at Slytherin Table, but nobody there was even looking their way: Malfoy was talking to Blaise about something as Crabbe and Goyle flanked them like silent statues. He looked around the staff table, but nobody was staring at him from there. Finally he decided to look down his own Gryffindor Table to see Cormac McLaggen giving him looks every now and then. McLaggen’s cheeks turned rosy when Harry saw him and the older Gryffindor quickly turned away.

Dumbledore got to his feet at the staff table. The talk and laughter echoing around the Hall died away almost instantly. “The very best evenings to you!” he said, smiling broadly, his arms opened wide as though to embrace the whole room.

“What happened to his hand?” Hermione gasped.

She was not the only one who had noticed, Dumbledore’s right hand was as blackened and dead-looking as it had been on the night he had come to fetch Harry and James from the Dursleys. Whispers swept the room; Dumbledore, interpreting them correctly, merely smiled and shook his purple-and-gold sleeve over his injury.

“Nothing to worry about,” he said airily. “Now… to our new students, welcome, to our old students, welcome back! Another year full of magical education awaits you…”

“His hand was like that when he came to get us,” James whispered to Hermione. “We thought he’d have cured it by now, though …or Madam Pomfrey would’ve done.”

“It looks as if it died,” Hermione said, with a nauseated expression. “But there are some injuries you can’t cure … old curses …and there are poisons without antidotes. …”

“…and Mr. Filch has asked me to say that there is a blanket ban on any joke items brought at the shop called Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes.

“Those wishing to play for their House Quidditch teams should give their names to their Heads of House as usual. We are also looking for new Quidditch commentators, who should do likewise.

“We are pleased to welcome a new member of staff this year. Professor Slughorn” –Slughorn stood up, his bald head gleaming in the candlelight, his big waistcoated belly casting the table below into shadow—“is a former colleague of mine who had agreed to resume his old post of Potions master.”

“Potions?”

“Potions?”

The word echoed all over the Hall as people wondered whether they head right.

“Professor Snape, meanwhile,” Dumbledore said, raising his voice so that it carried over all the muttering, “will be taking over the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.”

“No!” Harry and James said, so loudly that many heads turned in their direction. They didn’t care; they were both staring up at the staff table, incensed. How could Snape be given the Defense Against the Dark Arts job after all this time?

Snape, who was sitting on Dumbledore’s right, did not stand up at the mention of his name ; he merely raised a hand in lazy acknowledgement of the applause from the Slytherin table, yet Harry was sure he could detect a look of triumph on the features he loathed so much.

Dumbledore cleared his throat. It seemed the entire hall erupted in a buzz of conversation at the news that Snape had finally achieved his heart’s desire. Seemingly oblivious to the sensational nature of the news he had just imparted, Dumbledore said nothing more about staff appointments, but waited a few seconds to ensure that the silence was absolute before continuing.

“Now, as everybody in this Hall knows, Lord Voldemort and his followers are once more at large and gaining in strength. I cannot emphasize strongly enough how dangerous the present situation is, and how much care each of us at Hogwarts must take to ensure that we remain safe. The castle’s magical fortifications have been strengthened over the summer, we are protected in new and more powerful ways, but we must still guard scrupulously against carelessness on the part of any student or member of staff. I urge you, therefore, to abide by any security restrictions that your teachers might impose upon you, however, irksome you might find them. I implore you, should you notice anything strange or suspicious within or outside the castle, to report it to a member of staff immediately. I trust you to conduct yourselves, always, with the utmost regard for your own and others’ safety.”

Dumbledore’s blue eyes wept over the students before he smiled once more. “But now, your beds await, as warm and comfortable as you could possibly wish, and I know that your top priority is to be well-rested for your lessons tomorrow. Let us therefore say good night. Pip pip!”

James turned to Harry and grabbed his arm as the usual deafening scraping noise of benches moving back and hundreds of students beginning to file out of the Great Hall toward their dormitories filled the air. “You! Are not leaving my sight,” James said loudly, his grip tightening.

“And neither are you,” Harry said, pulling his arm out of James’s hand so he could grab it with his. Holding hands, they’ve joined the crowd of Gryffindors to Gryffindor Tower. The twins sat down in a sofa in the corner, waiting for Ron and Hermione to finished giving the tour to the First years.

McLaggen walked up to them and this was the first time Harry had a good look at the boy. He was large, a nice filled frame with bulging arm muscles and a rather tight and semi-transparent shirt under his robes which he opened  that showed a perfect set of abs. “Hello Harry,” the wire-haired youth smiled.

“Uh, hi… Cormac,” Harry said, his eyes shifting to James. Cormac McLaggen seemed to ignore James entirely as he focused on Harry.

“Since we’re both members of Ol’ Sluggy’s club, I think we should know each other a little more,” McLaggen smiled. “I would love to learn more about you.”

“Like what?” Harry asked, his eyes fixated on Cormac’s shirt. James watched, his eyes narrowing.

“Well… I just want to know more about you generally,” McLaggen said. “You know: favorite things, things you hate… that kind of stuff.”

“What? Does reading the Prophet not give you enough?” James snapped.

“Who asked you?” McLaggen said quickly, his face turning red. “I’m talking with your brother, not you.”

“No, you’re talking to my twin and younger brother,” James said. “Anything you want to say to Harry here, you can say to me.”

They held a glaring contest, Harry fidgeting awkwardly between them. McLaggen broke first and leaned down to Harry, whispering in his ear. “Why don’t we meet later Harry? Privately? I’ll show you more shirts like these since you like them so much… I’ll model for you, and maybe you’ll model for me.” Harry’s face turned red with blush as his breath hitched, his mind going to himself and McLaggen wearing transparent shirts. McLaggen nipped Harry’s earlobe and smirked as he pulled away. “I’ll see you later Harry,” he said. “James.” He nodded stiffly.

McLaggen walked away closing his robes as he did so. “What did he say to you?” James demanded.

Harry’s cheeks still burned. “He… he wanted us to meet later… so he could model more of those shirts for me … and I model them for him too.”

“And? Are you?” James asked, an eyebrow raised.

“I don’t know…” Harry said. “I think I should give Malfoy at least a shot right?”

“Only if you want to Harry,” James said.

“But we gave Blaise a second chance,” Harry said.

“He’s different,” James said.

Harry frowned and sighed. Looking around he saw Ron was talking with Colin Creevey and Hermione was nowhere to be found. “We should go to bed,” He said.

“Alright,” James said they stood up and began walking. “There you two are,” Hermione’s voice said. “Listen, I need to ask you two something.” They turned to see a worried Hermione.

“What’s the matter?” James asked.

“Ron and I ran into Hagrid on the way here,” Hermione said. “He started talking to us about the lesson he planned for us tomorrow and… are you guys…” she couldn’t finish her question.

The twins shook their heads.

“Neither are Ron and I,” Hermione sighed, biting her lip warily. “I don’t want to think what Hagrid will say when—I mean he isn’t a bad teacher, and it isn’t a bad subject but—oh he’s going to be so devastated!”

“He is but… we can explain it to him,” James said. “I’m sure he’ll won’t be too disappointed.”

“I guess but still he honestly couldn’t expect us to continue taking the subject,” Hermione said. The boys agreed and said their good-nights to Hermione.

They walked into their dormitory to see the others already sleeping in their beds. The Potter’s beds were next to each other, as always, with a small walkway and two night stands in between. Harry walked to his trunk, pulled out his journal, and sat on his bed as he worked to inscribe today’s events. James proceeded to take off his clothes, standing only in his boxers, and turned to Harry as his little brother returned the journal to his trunk and pulled out his pajamas. “Mine or yours tonight?” James asked.

“Mine,” Harry said, “I’m already here.”

“Lazy Potter,” James chuckled. He closed the curtains around his own bed and turned to climb into Harry’s. He watched as Harry took his clothes off and dressed into his pajamas before climbing into the bed after James. They took off their glasses and placed it on Harry’s nightstand. James wrapped an arm over Harry’s shoulder, his brother’s back to him, and yawned as he said, “Good night Harry.”

“Night James.”

The next morning found Harry, James, Ron, and Hermione waiting in the Great Hall for their schedule. The ceiling of the Great Hall was serenely blue and streaked with frail, wispy clouds, just like the square of sky visible through the high mullioned windows. The four avoided Hagrid’s eye and returned his cheery wave only halfheartedly when he left the staff table. Harry knew perfectly well that nobody in their year would want to continue Care of Magical Creatures.

Professor McGonagall descended from the staff table and started to distribute the class schedules. A more complex process than usual this year, as she needed first to confirm that everybody had achieved the necessary O.W.L. grades to continue with their chosen N.E.W.T.s.

Hermione was immediately cleared to continue Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, Herbology, Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, and Potions, and shot off to a first-period Ancient Runes class without further ado.

“So, Potter, Potter…” Professor McGonagall said, consulting her notes as she turned to Harry and James. “Harry: Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Herbology, Transfiguration … all fine. I must say I was very pleased with your Transfiguration grade, Potter, very pleased. Now why haven’t you applied to continue Potions? I thought it was your ambition to become a Healer?”

“It was, but you told me I had to get an ‘Outstanding’ in my O.W.L., Professor.”

“And so you did when Professor Snape was teaching the subject. Professor Slughorn, however, is perfectly happy to accept N.E.W.T. students with ‘Exceeds Expectations’ at O.W.L. Do you wish to proceed with Potions?”

“Yes,” Harry said, “but I didn’t buy the books or any ingredients or anything—“

“I’m sure Professor Slughorn will be able to lend you some,” Professor McGonagall said. “Very well, Potter, here is your schedule. Now, James Potter… same as your brother I see, Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Herbology, Transfiguration, and Potions. All very fine. Your score on Transfiguration could have been higher, Potter, but still very acceptable. Here is your schedule. Oh, by the way—twenty hopefuls have already put down their names for the Gryffindor Quidditch team. I shall pass the list to you in due course and you can fix up trials at your leisure.”

A few minutes later, Ron was cleared to do the same subjects as the twins, and the three left the table together.

“Look,” Ron said delightedly, glazing at his schedule, “we’ve got a free period now …and a free period after break …and after lunch …excellent!”

They returned to the common room and into the boy’s dormitory where James took out the magical weights. “So Ron, what did you and Creevey talk about?” he asked as he changed out of his normal robes and into some clothes he wouldn’t mind sweating in. Ron changed as well and took the weights James gave him.

“Normal stuff really,” he shrugged. “Likes, dislikes, that sort of stuff. We’re going to meet again today after class.”

James gave a low whistle, “Two dates in two days? My, you must really like this kid?”

“He’s cute,” Ron shrugged. “Nice butt as well,” he smirked. Harry sighed and just lounged on the bed as the two began their workouts. It was always nice watching his brother and Ron sweat; their muscles bulging as they’ve lifted the weights, their shirts rising every now and then when the two reached up revealing their delicious bodies.

An hour passed too quickly for Harry, and the two sweaty muscular boys went into the showers. When Ron came back with just a towel around his waist, he looked at Harry. “Why don’t you do this as well?” he asked.

“I’d rather watch,” Harry blushed.

“Harry likes being small and thin,” James said as he walked in. He passed Ron and kissed Harry on his cheek. “Right Harry?”

“Yeah, I do,” Harry blushed. “Besides… I don’t think I’ll look as good as James with muscles.” James smirked and kissed Harry’s cheek again. “Boy knows what’s right,” he said.

Ron looked down at Harry. “Wait a minute… didn’t you guys say that I’m basically your brother?” he asked. Harry and James looked at each other for a moment before nodding. “Then Harry, where is my kiss?” he asked, crossing his arms across his chest.

“I—what?” Harry said, shocked.

Ron stared down at Harry. “Where’s my kiss? Kiss my cheek Harry,” he said. Harry felt his cheeks blush as he stood up, walked to Ron, and kissed his cheek. Ron’s arms uncrossed and he hugged Harry, kissing his cheek as Harry pulled away. He smirked at him and said, “I think I’ll like being your brother Harry.”

“Well, if you’re really our brother now, there are some rules you need to follow,” Harry said as he slipped out of Ron’s arms and quickly retreated to James.

“Like what?”

“One: You can only kiss Harry on the cheeks and forehead,” James said, “and even then only when Harry allows you to. Two: you need to look after our little brother, specifically from guys who’ll take advantage of him. And three: What Harry says goes. No question.”

“Alright,” Ron agreed immediately.

“Great,” Harry smirked. “Then can we stop talking to this and get to class? I don’t even want to think about what Snape would do if we’re late.”

They left for the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom four floors below. Hermione was already queuing outside, carrying an armful of heavy books and looking put-upon.

“We got so much homework for Runes,” she said anxiously, when the trio of boys joined her. “A fifteen-inch essay, two translations, and I’ve got to read these by Wednesday!”

“What a shame,” James yawned.

The classroom door opened and Snape stepped into the corridor, his shallow face framed as ever by two curtains of greasy black hair. Silence fell over the queue immediately.

“Inside,” he said.

Harry looked around as they entered. Snape had imposed his personality upon the room already; it was gloomier than usual, as curtains had been drawn over the windows, and was lit by candlelight. New pictures adorned the walls, many of them showing people who appeared to be in pain, sporting grisly injuries or strangely contorted body parts. Nobody spoke as they settled down, looking around at the shadowy, gruesome pictures. Snape started to speak and Harry looked around to see who else was in this class. It was mainly people who were part of the D.A. last year, but he was surprised to see that Blaise was in this class, sitting with Malfoy.

“...Your defenses,” Snape said loudly, getting Harry’s attention, “must therefore be as flexible and inventive as the arts you seek to undo. These pictures”-he indicated a few of them as he swept past—“give a fair representation of what happens to those who suffer, for instance, the Cruciatus Curse”—he waved a hand towards a witch who was clearly shrieking in agony—“feel the Dementor’s Kiss”—a wizard lying huddled and blank-eyed, slumped against a wall—“or provoke the aggression of the Inferius”—a bloody mass upon the ground. “Now you are, I believe, complete novices in the use of nonverbal spells. Those who progress to use magic without shouting incantations gain an element of surprise in their spell-casting. Not all wizards can do this, of course; it is a question of concentration and mind power which some”—his gaze lingered maliciously upon Harry and James at once—“lack.

“You will now divide,” Snape went on, “into pairs. One partner will attempt to jinx the other without speaking. The other will attempt to repel the jinx in equal silence. Carry on.”

Harry and James paired up immediately. A reasonable number of cheating started to happen; many people were merely whispering the incantation instead of saying it aloud. Typically, ten minutes into the lesson Hermione managed to repel Neville’s muttered Jelly-Legs Jinx without uttering a single word, a feat that would surely have earned her twenty points for Gryffindor from any reasonable teacher, but which Snape ignored.

“No, I think it is time to split the Chosen Ones up,” Snape sneered when he reached Harry and James. “Draco! Work with Potter,” Snape said turning his back to the twins.

Malfoy stopped working with his partner, Blaise, and walked over to Harry as James moved to Blaise. “Harry.”

“Malfoy,” Harry said with contempt. He knew that Malfoy was Dee, but it was up to the prat to begin that talk. Until then, it’s business as usual. Besides, Harry thought to himself, he doesn’t nearly have any or enough muscles.

They aimed their wands at each other and for the rest of class traded blows; Harry trying out the most dangerous “legal” jinxes he knows as Malfoy sent him only childish spells. Near the end of the lesson Harry was able to block Malfoy’s jinx without saying a word and immediately sent him a stunner in complete silence. Snape dismissed them without a word and Harry was surprised at himself and James for keeping their tempers during the lesson. As they packed up Malfoy walked over to them. “Harry, I want to talk,” he said.

“Not now Malfoy,” Harry said stuffing his textbook into his bag, his head turning to see Ron and Hermione watching with an odd expression on their faces.

“No, now,” Malfoy said. “Listen Blaise told me to talk—“

“Talk to me when you want to talk to me, not when Ze tells you to,” Harry said roughly. He shouldered his bag and returned to his brother, Ron, and Hermione and the four exited the classroom. Harry heard footsteps behind them and Malfoy’s voice yelling, “Weasley!”

The four stopped and turned to see Malfoy standing in front of them looking extremely uncomfortable as he shuffled from foot to foot. “Weasley,” he repeated as if hating himself for even asking, “Can I… talk with you… for a moment… please?”

Ron looked confused, he looked between James and Harry. “What’s going on?” he asked aloud.

“I just want to talk,” Malfoy said through gritted teeth. “Can you please… talk with me?”

“We’ll wait here if you want Ron,” Hermione said, eyeing Malfoy suspiciously.

“Okay,” Ron said. He looked highly suspicious as he took a couple of steps towards Malfoy. “What do you want Malfoy?”

“I want to speak with you privately…” Malfoy said, his eyes shifting to Harry. “Please?”

Ron turned to Harry, James, and Hermione. Hermione and James looked worried but Harry nodded. “We’ll see you in the common room Ron,” he said. His eyes flashed to Malfoy in a warning manner before turning to leave. James and Hermione followed.

Alone Ron turned to Malfoy. “What do you want?”

“I want you to train me,” Malfoy said, looking serious. “I wouldn’t go to you if I had anyone else. Can’t ask anyone in Slytherin, they’ll hold it over my head; and James Potter is out of the question because he’ll tell Harry. So I want you to train me… so that I can grow muscles.”

Ron raised an eyebrow. He definitely wasn’t expecting this. “You want me… to be your trainer?” he repeated.

“Yes, don’t make me ask again,” Malfoy said. A smirk grew on Ron’s face and he crossed his arms. “Why?”

“Why does it matter why, will you do it or not?” Malfoy demanded.

“No, I need to know. Why Malfoy?”

Malfoy stared at him for a moment before saying, “Harry. I like Harry and Harry needs somebody with muscles. So please, will you do it?” he asked irritated.

The smirk on Ron’s face grew. “If that’s the case I’ll do it, but on some conditions.”

“What are they?” Malfoy said hesitantly.

“First, when we’re training you’re going to calling me either ‘Master Ron’ or ‘Master.’ Second, you’ll do everything I say whenever I tell you. Third, you will stop being a prat. Period. No more being rude to us and you’ll have to apologize to each of us directly for everything you have done. And lastly… you’re going to have to wear a special training outfit… in Gryffindor colors,” Ron listed.

“I am not calling you Master nor am I ever going to wear those ridiculous colors,” Draco argued.

“Then I guess you’ll just have to try your luck with someone else,” Ron shrugged. “And while you’re struggling, Harry will find somebody else and you’ll never have a chance.”

Draco gave an irritated and frustrated growl. Ron could see him practically mash his teeth together as he considered his options. He had to admit, he loved holding power over Malfoy, it was just enough revenge for the redhead for everything the blond prat has done to him. He waited a couple of minutes before saying, “Well Malfoy, do we have a deal?”

Ron offered his hand which Malfoy stared at. “Fine, deal,” Malfoy spat grabbing Ron’s hand. “But you don’t tell anybody about this.”

“Call me Master first,” Ron smirked.

Draco glared at him. “You won’t tell anybody about this, Master,” he forced out. It was good enough for Ron who shook their held hands.

“Alright Malfoy. After dinner we’ll meet in the Room of Requirement at eight o’clock. Don’t worry, I’ll bring your new clothes. Pretty sure there’s something… small enough for you.”

“Watch it Weasley, you don’t know how big things can come from small packages,” Malfoy smirked. “I’ll see you at eight.”

Malfoy immediately dropped Ron’s hand and turned to leave. Ron just snickered to himself as he watched the blonde Slytherin leave. “Oh, this is going to be fun, so much fun,” he chuckled to himself before walking to return to Harry.

Chapter Text

Chapter 7

“I wonder what Malfoy wanted with Ron,” Hermione said as the she and the Potter twins walked down the halls.

“I don’t know, any ideas Harry?” James asked.

“No, but I’m actually more worried about Dumbledore’s lesson on Saturday,” Harry said, lifting a scroll that a student recently delivered to them from Dumbledore.

Ron ran up to them a few minutes later looking very smug. “So, what happened?” James asked.

“Huh? Oh with Malfoy, can’t say,” Ron said gleefully. “Promised him not to.”

“Really?” Harry asked.

“Yeah,” Ron said turning to Harry. He had a strange smirk on his face that Harry couldn’t decipher.

“Well, just add that to the list of things we can speculate about,” James said before telling Ron about the letter from Dumbledore.

They spent the rest of the break speculating on what Dumbledore would teach James and Harry. Ron thought it most likely to be spectacular jinxes and hexes of the type the Death Eaters would not know. Hermione said such things were illegal (causing Harry and James to share a quick guilty look that she missed) and thought it would most likely that Dumbledore would to teach Harry advanced Defensive magic. After break, she went off to Arithmancy while Harry, James, and Ron returned to the common room, where they grudgingly started Snape’s homework. This turned out to be so complex that they still had not finished when Hermione joined them for their after-lunch free period (though she considerably speeded up the process). They had only just finished when the bell rang for the afternoon’s double Potions and they bear the familiar path down to the dungeon classroom that had, for so long, been Snape’s.

When they arrived in the corridor they saw that there were only a dozen people progressing to N.E.W.T. level. For Slytherins, including Malfoy and Blaise’ Four Ravenclaws’ the one Hufflepuff, Ernie Macmillan, and themselves. As they walked in, Slughorn greeted Harry, Blaise, and James with particular enthusiasm.

The dungeon was, most unusually, already full of vapors and odd smells. Harry, James, Ron, and Hermione sniffled interestedly as they passed large, bubbling cauldrons. The four Slytherins took a table together, as did the four Ravenclaws. The four Gryffindors took a third table together, leaving Macmillan to join the Ravenclaws. They chose the one nearest a gold-colored cauldron that was emitting one of the most seductive scents Harry and James ever smiled. Somehow it reminded James simultaneously of treacle tart, good leather, his brother, and a spicy cologne he always smelled in Devilish Temptation.

The twins found that they were breathing very slowly and deeply and that the potion’s fumes seemed to be filling them up like drink. They grinned at each other lazily.

“Now then, now then, now then,” Slughorn said, whose massive outline was quivering through the many shimmering vapors. “Scales out, everyone, and potion kits, and don’t forget your copies of Advanced Potion-Making. …”

“Sir?” Harry said, raising his hand. “I haven’t got a book or scales… or anything really—neither does Ron—we didn’t realize we’d be able to do the N.E.W.T., you see—“

“Not a problem Harry, not a problem!” Slughorn grinned. “You can use ingredients from the store cupboard today, unless your brother is feeling generous today, and we’ve got a small stock of old books here, they’ll do until you can write to Flourish and Blotts. …”

Slughorn strode out to a corner cupboard and, after a moment’s foraging, emerged with two very battered-looking copies of Advanced Potion-Making, which he gave to Harry and Ron along with two sets of tarnished scales. As Slughorn returned to his desk Harry pointed his wand at the scales and tapped it, “Reparo,” he whispered, fixing it to a more… usable set.

“I’ve prepared a few potions for you to have a look at, just out of interest, you know. These are the kind of thing you ought to be able to make after finishing your N.E.W.T.s. you ought to have heard of ‘em even if you haven’t made ‘em yet. Anyone tell me what this one is?”

He indicated the cauldron nearest the Slytherin table. Harry raised himself slightly in his seat and saw what looked like plain water boiling away inside it. James’s hand rocketed into the air as well as Hermione’s well-practiced hand. Slughorn faltered before pointing to James.

“It’s Veritaserum, the most powerful truth serum in the world,” James said. “The Ministry uses it, but it’s under heavy regulations.”

“Good show James, good show!” Slughorn said happily. “Now, he continued, pointing at the cauldron nearest the Ravenclaw table, “this one here is pretty well known. …Featured in a few Ministry leaflets lately too—yes?”

Hermione’s hand shot up before James could even begin to lift his. “It’s Polyjuice Potion, sir,” she said.

Harry too recognized the slow-bubbling, mudlike substance in the second cauldron, but did not resent Hermione getting the credit for answering the question; it was, after all, she and James who made it successfully in their second year (Harry still had nightmares of turning into Nott).

“Excellent, excellent! Now, this one here… yes, my dear?” Slughorn said, now looking slightly bemused, as Hermione’s hand punched the air again.

“It’s Amortentia!”

“It is indeed. It seems almost foolish to ask,” Slughorn said, who was looking mightily impressed, “but I assume you know what it does?”

“It’s the most powerful love potion in the world!” Hermione said, ignoring James’s sharp looks.

“Quite right! You recognized it, I suppose, but its distinctive mother-of-pearl sheen?”

“She could have at least wait till Slughorn fully asked the questions,” James muttered to Harry.

“You’re just jealous she got the answer before you,” Harry whispered back. “Besides, if you want, I know that you’ll make these potions before her.”

“Of course I can,” James whispered arrogantly. “I bet I can make the Polyjuice Potion by myself now too.”

“And who would you turn into?” Harry whispered.

“You, just so you can finally know how sexy and cute you are,” James smirked. “And I can touch your body all over while keeping your innocence.” James leered at Harry, causing his twin to blush and nudge his shoulder.

“I hate you,” he whispered.

“Sir, you haven’t told us what in this one,” Ernie Macmillan said, pointing at a small black cauldron standing on Slughorn’s desk. The potion within was splashing around merrily; it was the color of molten gold, and large drops were leaping like goldfish above the surface, though not a particle had spilled.

“Oho,” Slughorn said. “Yes. That. Well, that one, ladies and gentlemen, is a most curious little potion called Felix Felicis. I take it,” he turned smiling, to look at Hermione, who had let out an audible gasp as James raised an eyebrow, “that you know what Felix Felicis does, Miss Granger?”

“Liquid Luck,” James whispered to Harry as Hermione said it excitedly. “Make you lucky,” James winked.

“Quite right, take another ten points for Gryffindor! Oh yes and James, I did not forget about you, take ten points for answering the first question! This potion is desperately tricky to make, and disastrous to get wrong. However, if brewed correctly, as this has been, you will find that all your endeavors tend to succeed… at least until the effects wear off.”

Harry turned to his twin to see a twinkle in James’s eye and a confident smirk growing on his lips as he stared at the potion. His lips opened and mouthed the words ‘tricky to make’ and ‘disastrous to get wrong’ before smirking again. Harry sighed, knowing what feeling was growing inside his brother. “You want to make that,” he said.

“Of course! One of the most difficult potion to make? I have to make it,” James said. “I have to.”

“I’m not helping,” Harry said.

“Not going to ask, you’ll ruin it anyway,” James said.

There was a silence in which every bubble and gurgle of the surrounding potions seemed magnified tenfold. “One tiny bottle of Felix Felicis,” Slughorn said, taking a minuscule glass bottle with a cork in it out of his pocket and showing it to them all. “Enough for twelve hours’ luck. From dawn till disk, you will be lucky in everything you attempt.

“Now, I msut give you warning that the potion is a banned substance in organized competitions… sporting events, for instance, examinations, or elections. So the winner is to use it on an ordinary day only… and watch how that ordinary day becomes extraordinary!”

“I’ll make enough to make an extraordinary year!” James declared, that same glint in his eyes that Harry remembered having when he made his journals.

“—Well, by turning to page ten of Advanced Potion-Making. We have a little over an hour left to us, which should be time for you to make a decent attempt at the Draught of Living Death. I know it is more complex than anything you have attempted before, and I do not expect a perfect potion from anybody”—Harry looked at James, knowing that his twin will do his hardest to do so anyway.—“The person who does best, however, will win little Felix here. Off you go!”

There was a scraping as everyone drew their cauldrons toward them and some loud clunks as people began adding weights to their scales, but nobody spoke. The concentration within the room was almost tangible. Harry saw Malfoy riffling feverishly through his copy of Advanced Potion-Making. It could not have been clearer that he really wanted that lucky day. Harry looked to his brother and had to stifle a chuckle. James was humming. While everyone needed complete silence to concentrate, James hummed. If it was to actually help him, or just to annoy the people around him concentrating Harry still haven’t figured it out. He bent over his tattered book that Slughorn gave him.

Much to his annoyance, the previous owner had scribbled all over the pages, so that the margins were as black as the printed portions. It reminded Harry of James’s potion books whenever he disagreed with the author. Perhaps the previous owner was the same?

He decided to follow the book’s directions for now. Within ten minutes, the whole place was full of bluish steam. Hermione, of course, seemed to have progressed furthest. Her potion already resembled the “smooth, black currant-colored liquid” mentioned as the ideal halfway stage. Harry turned to James to see he was very close behind humming happily.

Having finished chopping his roots, Harry bent low over his book again. Where as the book instructed to cut up the sopophorous bean, the previous-owner disagreed.

Crush with flat side of silver dagger, releases juice better than cutting.

“James, got a spare silver knife?”

“Yup,” James said in tune with his humming. He looked up at Hermione, who had an irritable look as she concentrated on her own potion, which was still a deep purple when it’s supposed to be a light shade of lilac like James’s.

Harry crushed his bean with the flat side of the dagger. To his astonishment, it immediately exuded so much juice he was amazed the shriveled bean could have held it all. Hastily scooping it all into the cauldron he saw, to his surprise, that the potion immediately turned exactly the shade of lilac described in the book. It’s just like James’s notes! Harry thought to himself grinning. He turned to James and smirked. Maybe he can finally beat his brother in Potions for once.

The book instructed to stir the potion counter-clockwise until the potion turned clear as water; the previous owner, however, added in the instruction of adding a clockwise turn after every seventh counterclockwise stir. Harry stirred counterclockwise seven times before stirring clockwise. The effect was immediate. The potion turned palest pink.

“How are you doing that?” Hermione demanded, who was red-faced and whose hair was growing bushier and bushier in the fumes from her cauldron; her potion was still resolutely purple.

“Add a clockwise stir—“

“No, no, the book says counterclockwise!” she snapped.

“Harry, you found your own way? You cheeky thing,” James smiled as he continued to stir his potion, his stirs in frequent with his humming: fastening and slowing with the tune much to Hermione’s annoyance.

Harry shrugged and continued what he was doing. Seven stirs counterclockwise, one clockwise, pause. …repeat.

“And time’s… up!” Slughorn called. “Stop stirring, please!”

Slughorn moved slowly among the tables, peering into cauldrons. James peeked into Harry’s and grinned. “Look at yours, you cheat,” he smiled. “It might beat mine.”

Harry just beamed. At last Slughorn reached the table where Harry, James, Ron, and Hermione were sitting. He smiled ruefully at the tarlike substance in Ron’s cauldron. Hermione’s potion he gave an approving nod. He stopped at the twins’ and a look of incredulous delight spread over his face.

“I can’t decide!” he cried to the dungeon. “Excellent, excellent both of you! It is clear Harry, James, that you both inherited your mother’s talent. She was a dab hand at Potions, Lily was! And a hummer as well like you James! But which one to give it too? … Well boys! Why not both! Here you are, then, one bottle of Felix Felicis, as promised boys—use it well and make sure to share!”

James slipped the tiny bottle of golden liquid into his inner pocket, grinning with full pride at his brother, who returned it though with a guilty feeling at the disappointing expression on Hermione’s face.

Harry told them how he has done it at the Gryffindor table. “I s’pose you think I cheated?” He finished, aggravated by her expression.

“Well, it wasn’t exactly your own work, was it?” she said stiffly.

“He was just following different directions,” James shrugged. “You think my turns were all even with my humming? Of course not! But Harry,” he turned to his brother, “you better do one thing.”

“What is it?”

Don’t just copy from this book—actually learn from it, or at least copy down the directions so I could use it,” James grinned.

“How could you be okay with this? This could have been a catastrophe! We don’t know who the owner of this book is, he could be some lunatic dark wizard or something,” Hermione said.

“Hermione, I write my own instructions all the time,” James said. “Hell, sometimes I even just write tunes to hum while making the potions!”

“We need to have a talk about that,” Hermione snapped. James just shrugged. They looked at Ron who was staring at his watch. “What’s the matter Ron?” James asked.

“Nothing, just checking the time,” Ron said. Harry checked the time as well and saw that it was seven thirty. Ron stood up and said, “I’ll see you guys in the common room later, I’ve got something to do.”

“Umm alright…” Hermione said, looking confused with the twins as they watched Ron move from his seat, down the length of Gryffindor table and out of the Great Hall.

Ron made his way up to the seventh floor, following his memory as he found his way to the corridor with the Room of Requirement. He stood in front of the blank wall and thought for a moment for what he should think of. In the end, with a leering smirk on his face, he thought I need a place to train Draco Malfoy. He began walking around the corridor, keeping that thought to himself as he did so. I need a place to train Draco Malfoy. I need a place to train Draco Malfoy. I need a place to train Draco Malfoy. Once, twice, three times he walked around the corridor until he stopped in front of a rounded wooden door. He opened the door and walked inside.

The room was a moderate size. There was a running lap that made the edges the room and seemed to contain the exercise equipment on the inside. Ron walked around the room, inspecting all the weights as he remembered everything James taught him. There was a full-length mirror on the wall, next of which had two pieces of clothing. One was a tight shirt and pants that seemed to fit Ron perfectly, showcasing every inch of his bulky muscles. Grinning like an idiot Ron just had to try it on. He practically threw off his robes and replaced them with the shirt and pants, under which he found a silver whistle. He gave short laugh to himself as he took the whistle and pocketed it, along with his wand. When he looked at the article of clothing next to his new clothes, his short laugh turned into a huge bellow of laughter. Somewhere in the past, a Gryffindor seemed to be into Muggle wrestling. That or the Room of Requirement is able to create clothing when wanted. Hanging loosely on a hook was a singlet. A deep red and gold singlet with a huge lion on the chest.

“Malfoy’s going to look perfect in this!” Ron laughed at himself, holding onto the wall for support. He couldn’t wait until Malfoy comes here so he could see the git in it. If the image of Malfoy wearing it was enough to make Ron bellow with laughter, he couldn’t wait to see how actually seeing Malfoy in it will affect him. Ron decided to take the singlet and place it right in front of the door on top of a wooden door. Sitting down on a bench Ron waited for Malfoy to come in.

He only had to wait about ten minutes as the doors swung open and an apprehensive looking Malfoy stepped in. His eyes roamed around the room before falling on Ron wearing the shirt and shorts. “What are you wearing?” he sneered.

Ron just looked at him and shrugged. “Late Malfoy, get dressed. You’re not actually thinking of doing this in your robes, are you?”

“I—no of course not,” Draco said. He looked around for his clothes until he finally saw the small singlet sitting on a wooden chair. “I am not wearing that,” he said.

“Yeah you are,” Ron smirked. “If we’re doing this Malfoy, that’s what you’re wearing.”

“Not it isn’t,” Draco said. He lifted the singlet up as if it was garbage. “The thing doesn’t have any sleeves Weasley! You cannot be seriously thinking that I’ll be wearing this, do you?”

“Yes I am. Now change Malfoy, or I’m just going to leave,” Ron said, doing his best to keep his snickering to himself. Malfoy just glared at him.

“I am not wearing this, I can’t,” Malfoy said. “If you think this is one huge joke, you have another thing coming to you Weasley! Now where are my actual clothes? With sleeves!”

“No other clothes, you are going to wear that Malfoy. Think of it as a… lesson of humility,” Ron smirked. Malfoy’s look of pure fury just made the redhead chortle.

“Weasley, for the last time,” Malfoy said, his teeth gritted as his pale skin turned a furious red. “I am not wearing this hideous thing. Not only doesn’t it have sleeves, but it has ghastly colors and a stupid cat on the breast! Now show me my real clothes!”

Ron sighed and stood up. “That’s it, I’m leaving,” he said. “If you can’t going to wear those clothes, I can’t help you get Harry’s affection.”

Ron started towards the door. Draco stood there for a moment, as if contemplating something very difficult. Ron waited at the door, his hand on the handle, his body shaking gleefully as he desperately tried to stifle his laughing.

“Stop Weasley! …don’t go,” Malfoy said. Ron turned to see Malfoy standing in front of him. “I… can’t wear that singlet. …Please would you give me something with sleeves?”

“Hmm no,” Ron said, his tongue in his cheek as he gave a huge smirk. “What’s the matter Malfoy? Afraid of showing some skin?”

“Weasley! I am begging you! Do not make me wear that thing!” Malfoy yelled, a hint of desperation was in his voice. “Just give me a sleeved shirt goddamnit!”

Ron looked at Malfoy. He was nearly at Ron’s height; his body was shaking badly as if he really didn’t want to take off his robes. His skin lost its red fury and instead looked to be getting paler with every second. His arm reached and desperately clutched at his sleeve. Ron watched this; watched Draco Malfoy act this this scared manner and laughed. He laughed as a sense of relief for all the years of bullying Malfoy done to him and Harry and Hermione finally came back for Malfoy. He laughed and laughed and Mafloy’s skin got paler and paler. With a victorious smirk Ron let go of the door and walked towards the singlet on the wooden chair. He lifted it up and held it in front of Draco. “No,” he said. “Wear it.”

“I can’t!” Malfoy yelled. “I can’t wear the fucking thing! Be a damn human being and give me something with sleeves! Please!” He was shaking violently now. Ron’s smirk just grew. “Weasley! Please don’t make me wear it!”

“Why not? You want to grow muscles for Harry right? Come on, you’ll soon love wearing things like this,” Ron smirked. “You’ll just look silly for the first few weeks, come on Malfoy.”

“I. Can’t. Wear. That,” Draco said looking up at Ron pleading. “Give me a damn sleeve!”

“Why not? Why can’t you wear this? I thought you wanted to do this for Harry—don’t back out now ferret!” Ron yelled.

“You really want to know Weasley? You really want to know? Fine! Here! Look at this!” Malfoy cried out. He thrust his arm out to Ron and pulled his sleeve up revealing a black skull and snake on his wrist: The Dark Mark. Ron gasped and jumped away, pulling out his wand.

“I KNEW IT! YOU’RE JUST A FILTHY DARK WIZARD!” Ron roared in tense furry.

“I DID NOT WANT THIS!” Draco yelled out, his throat hurting as tears drained from his eyes. “I DO NOT WANT THIS!” He yelled again. “I was forced… to do this! My aunt and him—they did this! My aunt dragged me from my room and he pressed his wand”

“As if! I bet you wanted this you git! You loved getting that mark on you!” Ron yelled. “Why shouldn’t I just throw you to Dumbledore, you bastard!”

“Because I don’t want it! Are you fucking listening to me!?” Draco yelled. “My aunt and the Dark Lord forced it on me—“

“Only after you begged for it I bet!” Ron yelled. “You’re a Slytherin! All they want to do is be a filthy Death Eater!”

“Ronald Weasley,” Draco said, his entire body shaking. “You are… the most disgusting, inhumane, ungrateful person I ever met!” Tears began to roll down his eyes. “Harry and James should have been my friends! Mine! Because then they’ll have a best friend with an actual fucking heart!” Draco collapsed onto the floor, crying openly in front of Ron.

“Weak Death Eater,” Ron sneered.

“All I wanted was Harry’s friendship, you bastard,” Draco cried. “I need his help to get rid of this stupid mark… and the only way to do that… is through you! I need your help Weasley, but if you’re just going to act like this, like a heartless bitch… I…” Draco just cried.

Ron sighed. Any fun he got from humiliating Malfoy was gone as he stared at the crying mass in front of him. He stepped around Malfoy and looked around. The same place he found his whistle, he found a piece of white cloth. He debated mentally but in the end grabbed the rolled up cloth and walked to Malfoy.

“Here,” he said shortly, not liking that he is acting kind to Malfoy. All he wanted was to humiliate and leave Malfoy here. But now… “Cover it up, and put the singlet on.”

Draco looked up and took the cloth. He tapped his wand to it and it rolled itself around Draco’s wrist, covering the Dark Mark. “Thank you.”

He stood up and looked at the singlet. Taking a breath and steeling himself, he slowly took off his clothes until he was just in his boxers. He then took the red and gold singlet with the lion head, and with a small scowl on his face, slipped it on. He looked in the mirror. His pale skin contrasted the bold colors, and his skinny body looked a bit silly in the muggle outfit—except for the very small hump of his butt. He turned to Ron and asked, “What do we do first?”

“You actually want to do this?” Ron asked.

“Yes,” Draco said. “I need Harry. …I need his help… to take this off.” Draco looked down shamefully at the now covered Dark Mark. Ron said nothing. He just shrugged.

“Alright, I guess we can do this,” he said. “So what do you do already?”

“I… what do you call it… squat. A lot,” Draco said.

“Just that?”

“Do you expect me to actually go on the floor and do those disgusting muggle exercises?” Draco sneered at Ron’s look.

“Now that you mentioned it? Yes, I do,” Ron smirked. “If you want to get big like me,” he flexed an arm, “then you’re going to be doing a lot of those.”

“I don’t want to become a hulking mass of muscles like you,” Draco sneered. “Just enough to make Harry feel safe with me.”

Ron just shrugged again. “Ehh, fine,” he sighed. “But every time you sneer at me, you’re going to run.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me, run,” Ron smirked. He blew his whistle. Malfoy just stood there, crossing his arms. “Well Malfoy? Do it!”

“I don’t run,” Malfoy said. Ron took out his wand and aimed it at him. “Then I gotta do to you what James did to me. He flicked his wand and a small spark shot from it and hit Draco in his back.

“Ow! What were you thinking Weasley!” Malfoy yelled.

Ron just smirked and chuckled. “This is what James did to me when I wanted to be lazy,” he just shrugged. “So run.” He sent another stinging jinx to Draco’s back and the Slytherin glared at Ron before regrettably started running. He ran around the outsides of the room, following the track as Ron sat down in the wooden chair. Draco ran five laps before Ron told him to stop. Draco slowed to a stop sweating; the singlet began to stick to his body causing his skin to feel weird. This is for Harry, he thought to himself as he stopped in front of Ron. An hour slowly passed like this. Ron instructed Draco what to do: how to hold his body in such a way, how to move his body with the weights. They argued, and whenever Draco wanted to stop out of pure stubbornness Ron sent another stinging hex. At the end of the hour Draco couldn’t feel a part of his body that didn’t ache. Ron just sat in the wooden chair and smirked. “See you tomorrow Malfoy, same time and place.”

Draco’s answer was just a glare. Ron smirked and watched as Draco dressed himself back into his robes and walked out of the door. Ron stood up, stretched, and dressed back into his regular clothing as well. He hummed to himself as he made his way back to the Gryffindor common room. The room was surprisingly empty except for the Creevey brothers who were playing a game of Exploding Snap. He smiled as he looked at the little boy. “Colin, where is everyone?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Colin smiled. “I was looking for you after dinner Ron, where were you?”

Ron moved to sit next to Colin. “Oh I was helping somebody,” he said. “But I’m happy we’re alone. I want to talk with you… you know, get to know you better.”

“Alright,” Colin smiled. He looked at his brother and nodded his head to the side. His brother stayed in his seat. “Dennis,” Colin whispered. “Go.”

“Why?” Dennis asked.

“Ron and I want to talk,” Colin said.

“So? You can talk in front of me,” Dennis said.

“Dennis right?” Ron said. He leaned forward and said, “Your brother and I want to be alone for a while… you know? So why don’t you go and hang out with your friends? I’ll treat you both later at Hogsmeade.”

“Okay,” Dennis said standing up. “Night Colin.”

The two watched Dennis leave and turned to each other, a goofy smile on their faces. “So… what do you want to know about?” Colin asked bashfully, placing his hand on Ron’s leg.

“A lot of things,” Ron said, placing his hands on top of Colin’s. “So how about Quidditch? Do you have a favorite team?”

“I don’t watch Quidditch… only here,” Colin said. “Are you going to be on the team again? I want to get pictures of you on a broom playing.”

Ron smirked. “I’m sure James’ll let me back on the team.”

“Awesome,” Colin smiled. “I got a new camera and I want to try it out so bad.”

“A new camera? You got another one?” Ron asked.

“Yeah! It’s old-fashioned so it works here and the pictures already move when they’re developed!” Colin said eagerly. “I’ve saved through all of summer to get it at Diagon Alley!”

“You really like pictures, don’t you?” Ron chuckled, his mind going to naughty places. “What type of pictures you take?”

“Any really,” Colin said. “I take pictures of anything I like.”

“Really? You never thought of… taking pictures of yourself, you know? In different clothes?” Ron smirked. Colin blushed and shuffled in his seat. “You did!” Ron exclaimed. “You did pictures like that!”

Colin’s blush deepened. “Yeah… I um… I took pictures…wearing clothes.”

“What clothes?” Ron asked.

“My underwear,” Colin blushed. “It… it… excites me.” Ron’s smirk grew. “Is.. is that weird?”

“No, no, not weird at all,” Ron said. “Everybody got their kinks.”

Colin looked up at Ron. “What are your kinks then?” he asked.

M-my kinks?” Ron asked, it was his turn to blush. He squeezed Colin’s hand and said, “I—I have a few kinks… but I don’t want scare you away.” He blushed.

“You can’t scare me away,” Colin said, giving a sly smirk. “What can be worse than taking pictures of myself nearly naked?”

“I can think of many things,” Ron blushed. “I’ll tell you later Colin, don’t worry… can I ask you something?”

“Sure, what is it?” Colin asked.

“Sit on my lap? Please?”

“Okay,” Colin smiled. He moved and sat down on Ron’s lap, easily fitting on his muscled thighs. “Wow,” he said. “I never knew you were so big Ron,” he said innocently.

Ron snickered. “Colin, you know what you talking about?”

“Yes I do,” Colin said. He looked at Ron, their eyes connecting, and linked his arms around Ron’s neck. “You know… I always had a thing for redheads.”

“I always had a thing for small boys,” Ron whispered, placing his hand son Colin’s hips.

“You calling me small?”

“You fit perfectly in my lap, so yeah.” Ron chuckled. “Little Colin Creevey. Perfect for sitting on Big Ronald Weasley.”

“Okay now you’re just teasing me,” Colin laughed. Ron laughed as well as he pulled Colin closer to him. Looking down on the fifteen-year-old Ron’s lecherous eyes twinkled as he imagined his darkest fantasies. “What are you thinking about?” Colin laughed.

“You doing some very naughty stuff,” Ron smirked.

“You don’t even know my favorite color,” Colin blushed. Ron chuckled and smiled ruefully. “It’s red, isn’t it? Like my hair.”

“…Yeah,” Colin said. “What’s yours?”

“Blue,” Ron said. “Now we know that.”

“We do indeed,” Colin said. He stared at Ron’s chest. “One day… can I take pictures of you? Like I take pictures of myself?”

“You want me to model for you?” Ron asked.

“Yeah, model,” Colin nodded. “I think… that you’ll look very nice.”

“Okay,” Ron said. “Yeah, that sounds like fun.”

“Thank you,” Colin said, giving Ron the biggest grin he could muster. He shook his butt on Ron’s lap, feeling something thick move beneath him that caused both boys to blush deeply.

“S-Sorry,” they both muttered at the same time. Colin shuffled awkwardly off of Ron’s lap and they sat there in an awkward silence.

“So…”

“Umm…

“Want to play a game of Snaps?” Ron asked.

“Sure,” Colin said. They moved to the middle of the sofa and Ron shuffled the cards before placing them back on the table. They played a few games, the awkwardness between them evaporating in the middle of the first game and soon Colin was practically on Ron’s lap again as he tried to distract the older boy. The game was soon forgotten as Ron laid on the sofa, Colin on his lap.

“Are we moving fast?” Colin asked.

“I don’t know… first time for me,” Ron said.

“First time for me too. … Ron? Can I kiss you?” Colin asked.

“Of course, come here boy,” Ron said. He grapped Colin and playfully pulled him down so the fifth year was laying on Ron’s chest. They stared at each other before Ron took Colin’s lips in a dominating, demanding kiss. Colin returned his kiss tenfold and the two teens laid there, their lips connected for a long time. When Colin pushed up to take a breath, his lips were puffy, a long string of spit connecting him and Ron.

“Amazing…” Colin gasped.

“Yeah…”

“Same thing… tomorrow night?” Colin asked, his face blushing.

“You bet,” Ron smirked. “I  think we’ll be kissing a lot.” He playfully smacked Colin’s ass and grinned. “You should go to bed now, boy.”

“Y-Yeah, I should,” Colin blushed. “Night Ron.”

“Night.” Ron watched Colin as he slid off of his lap and shakenly mad his way up the stairs to the dormitories. Ron looked at his lap and saw an impressive bulge and felt his pants’ restrictions. It was time for Ron to go to bed as well, Ron decided as he touched himself through his clothes and followed Colin up the stairs.

Chapter Text

Chapter 8

For the rest of the week’s Potion lessons Harry continued to follow the book owner’s (who turned out to be a person named the Half-Blood Prince) instructions wherever they deviated from the text which resulted in Slughorn raving about Harry’s abilities, saying that he had rarely taught anyone so talented, and more than delighted to see that he has two students in the form of Harry and his brother. Neither Ron nor Hermione was delighted by this, however. Although Harry had offered to share his book with both of them, Ron had more difficulty deciphering the handwriting than Harry did, and could not keep asking Harry to read aloud or it might look suspicious. Hermione, meanwhile, was resolutely plowing on what she called the “official” instructions, but becoming increasingly bad-tempered as they yielded poorer results than the Prince’s.

Harry found that he was actually slowly learning from the Prince. Especially since James took the book and had a tendency to quiz Harry whenever he felt like it. They both wondered vaguely who the Half-Blood Prince had been. Although the amount of homework they had been given prevented Harry from reading the whole of his copy of Advanced Potion-Making, he had skimmed through it sufficiently to see that there was barely a page on which the Prince had not made additional notes, not all of them concerned with potion-making. Here and there were directions for what seemed like spells that the Prince had made up for himself.

Cormac McLaggen didn’t seem to stop in his advances for Harry. Every now and then he popped up to talk with Harry, asking him if they could talk in private and reminding Harry about the modeling offer. Cormac always smiled at Harry, making sure that their eyes meet until the only thing that Harry could see was the blonde’s face. Every time Cormac talked with him, Harry started to blush and hesitated more and more until saying no. Cormac’s smirk seemed to slowly break his defenses until on Thursday night, on his way to the Great Hall for dinner, Harry agreed.

“Awesome! You’ll won’t be disappointed Harry,” the brash Gryffindor smiled. “Come on!” He took Harry’s hand and pulled the small boy with him back to Gryffindor Tower and away from James. “I have so many clothes to show you Harry,” Cormac said. “You’re going to love all of them.”

“O-Okay,” Harry said trying to keep up with the tall muscular Gryffindor. They made their way through the corridors, passing a confused looking Ron, and up to Gryffindor Tower. They’ve gotten strange looks as they went through the portrait and up the stairs to the seventh-year boy’s dormitory. The room was empty and Cormac asked Harry to lock the door, which he did. “Take off your robes Harry, get comfortable,” Cormac smirked, pointing to his bed. The trunk in front of it was already opened. “I’ll show you some really good clothes for you.”

“Okay…” Harry blushed surprised to find himself smiling. Cormac shared the smile and pulled off his own set of robes. He kneeled in front of his trunk and began to rummage through it before pulling out a black transparent shirt. “I have a friend who loved wearing these,” Cormac said. “Muggle, great guy, and he really opened my eyes to a lot of things. Like wearing these.” Cormac stood up and held the shirt in front of him smirking. “They make you feel sexually powerful wearing them, and very enticing to look at. Especially if the guy has his nipples pierced like my friend. I’m actually thinking of doing that after graduating Hogwarts.”

Cormac gave Harry a wink and slowly unbuttoned his shirt, revealing more and more muscles. Harry gasped and blushed. Cormac’s body was visually perfect. His pecs were fully formed, two huge muscles that looked like perfect pillows; his body had a V-shape with perfectly shaped and visible abs. Harry felt his pants tightening as his face turned red.

“You look cute blushing,” Cormac said. “I think I should keep you blushing all the time.”

“Cormac, you wouldn’t—“

Cormac laughed and allowed his shirt to fall to the ground, his sun-kissed body seemingly shimmering in the torch-light. “Like what you see Harry?” Cormac asked innocently. He raised a hand and brushed it against his dusty-pink nipple, biting his lower lip as he stared at Harry, whose pants continued to tighten around his member as it grew. “Y-Yeah,” he blushed.

“Good. Don’t be ashamed… but I’m not done yet,” Cormac said, rubbing his body some more. Harry just stared. His hands started to itch as he had to fight an urge to reach out and touch. He felt a heat beginning to rise deep inside him, slowly consuming his body as he stifled a moan. Cormac’s eyes seemed to mesmerize him, his body became hypnotic as the boy began to thrust and move his body seductively, touching himself every now and then before grabbing the black transparent shirt. He dragged the fabric across his chest slowly, teasing his own hardening nipples before whipping it playfully at Harry who jumped slightly. Cormac took a step closer to Harry, bending slightly, and whispered, “Do you want to touch me Harry? You can, you have permission. Touch my chest Harry, feel my muscles in your hands.”

Harry moaned, his hands moving by themselves as they reached for Cormac’s chest, resting them on Cormac’s muscles and dragged them down slowly, earning a deep moan from the older teen. Harry’s face was fully red, the strange heat growing inside of him as his slowly lost control of his body, letting a primal lust take over. Every stroke of his hands across Cormac’s body earned him another moan and Harry found his hands slowly etching their way downwards, tracing Cormac’s abs and to the edge of his pants. Harry looked up for a moment, his eyes meeting Cormac’s, and leaned forward, his tongue poking out as he gave Cormac’s bellybutton a hesitant lick. Cormac rested his hand on Harry’s head, pushing him gently closer to his body.

“You like my body Harry? You like licking it?”

Harry blushed and nodded, not knowing where this lust was coming from. He never acted like this before.

“Lick away Harry,” Cormac smiled. “Lick my body all you want, then dress me with this shirt.” Cormac’s hand left Harry’s hair for a second only for Harry to feel the soft feather-light texture of the transparent shirt across the back of his neck, resting on his shoulders. Harry moaned and his hands reached for the side of McLaggen, holding the older boy in place as his tongue started to lick it’s way across Cormac’s body, tracing the outline of his abs, leaving a line of spit and saliva as he goes. Cormac’s moans encouraged the lust-induced Harry. He traveled up Cormac’s body, his tongue finding Cormac’s nipples which he bit down and sucked. “Good baby,” Cormac moaned, his hand rubbing the back of Harry’s head, pushing him closer to his muscles. “Suck me up Harry. You like that don’t you?”

Harry moaned.

“Do you have any other kinks baby? Anything I should know to make you a happy boy?” Cormac asked.

His mind filled with lust, Harry looked up at Cormac, breathing in the boy’s musk and cologne. The mixed scent made Harry’s mind go crazy, his lust and need increasing as the heat inside him grew and grew, making his cock hard and weeping. Any sense he had was gone as he opened his mouth and said, “Krum… my first boyfriend… had muscles like you. I love muscles… I need them to feel safe. …and… and he once called me… his little wife.”

“Little wife?” Cormac smirked. “Is that what you want Harry? Do you want to be my little wife?” He asked, chuckling slightly.

“I—I don’t know,” Harry blushed.

“Mrs. Harry McLaggen, my little wife. I’ll dress you in in little skirts and everything,” Cormac said. Harry’s face couldn’t get redder as a moan slipped out. “That’s it girl, come on. Dress your husband now.”

Harry’s moved back and took the transparent shirt off of the back of his neck and held it in front of Cormac. The wiry-haired Gryffindor held his arms out and Harry slowly slipped the shirt on one sleeve at a time, licking Cormac’s biceps as he got near them. “Good girl,” Cormac said. “Good girl… give your husband a kiss now.”

Harry looked at Cormac and kissed him lightly, but Cormac grabbed his body and shoved his tongue down Harry’s throat. In his lust-filled mind Harry moaned, his hormones going wild as he found himself submitting to McLaggen’s kiss, his body pressing against Cormac’s.

“Come on girl, let me see your body now,” Cormac breathed. “Let me see your boobs.”

Harry nodded and slowly unbuttoned his own shirt, his body moving by its own revealing his small frame and two pink perky nipples that stood for attention. Cormac smirked at them and flicked one nipple. “Too small, Harry, too small,” he said shaking his head lightly. “Your breasts are too small to be my wife’s. How are you going to breastfeed our babies, silly?”

Harry blushed.

“Don’t worry Harry, I’m sure there are some spells to fix that problem. My wife needs the perfect breasts for the perfect husband,” McLaggen said.

Somewhere deep in Harry’s mind, his conscience was screaming, yelling at Harry to snap out of whatever spell McLaggen placed him on. His body felt like it was on fire. He was a boy! He loved being a boy! He didn’t want to be a girl! It was just a joke, a comment Krum made while they were together! Why was McLaggen’s comments making him feel so strange?

Cormac’s hands brushed against Harry’s chest. “Small breast would look perfect on you, baby,” he said. “But for now… let me get you some nice clothes.”

McLaggen turned around, the transparent shirt swinging lightly in the breeze, and in that moment, with the connection between their eyes destroyed, Harry felt his senses return to him. Panic took over. His body started to hyperventilate as he slowly gathered his clothes. He couldn’t get dress and run, not without McLaggen noticing. His body still felt sickly hot, he couldn’t understand why, it was as if something deep inside him woke up, something that he didn’t understand. There was something about McLaggen that scared him, something that caused the heat inside him to awaken.

“I have so many clothes for you to try on Harry, you’ll look so sexy in these,” McLaggen said, still kneeling in front of his trunk.

Harry had one moment, he needed to leave. He pointed his wand at the door and silently unlocked it. He only had one change. If he ran, he knew that Cormac would chase, he needed to lose the Gryffindor and get to his brother.

“Maybe some leather? No, no my wife won’t wear any leather,” McLaggen said aloud as he continued rummaging through the trunk.

This was it, his one chance. Harry gathered his robes, made sure his shirt was secured onto him despite being unbuttoned, and practically flew off of McLaggen’s bed. His footsteps pounded on wooden floor and McLaggen looked up from his trunk just as the door slammed closed. In his hurry, Harry did not think of locking the door behind him, all he wanted, all he needed in his desperation was to find James.

What was he thinking? Why was he acting like that? Harry couldn’t understand why he would act that way, why he would do the things he did—say the things he say! He’s not a wife! He’s not a wife! He’s not a wife! He’s a boy, a male, a man. He can’t be a wife—he doesn’t want to be a wife! What was wrong with him?

Tears started to fall from Harry’s eyes. He could hear Cormac’s voice from behind him. He ignored it, he just ran out of the common room, through the portrait hole, and into the corridors of Hogwarts. On and on he ran, holding his robes close to his chest. Chest not boobs, Harry had to remind himself. I’m a boy! I’m a boy! I don’t want to be a wife!

The strange heat slowly died away as he continued to run, getting further and further away from Gryffindor Tower. He found that he was heading back to the Great Hall. Maybe they were still eating dinner, maybe they would still be there.

Harry reached the entrance hall and cried out a noise of relief when he saw James and Ron walking out the Great Hall, talking aimlessly. “James!” he cried out. The two boys looked up at Harry. The small boy grabbed James’s hand and continued running, needed to be away from everyone.

“Harry—Harry where were you? You didn’t come to dinner,” James said as he ran with Harry, Ron following after. Neither of them noticed a certain blonde boy following them from a distance. Harry ran into a nearby room with James. Ron closed the door behind them to see that Harry was already crying in James’s arms.

“I’m a boy, I’m a boy, I’m a boy, I’m gay, I’m gay, I’m a gay boy,” Harry freaked out. “I don’t want to be a wife—I don’t want to!”

“Harry, Harry, calm down Harry! What happened?” James said, hugging his brother close. Ron watched apprehensively, feeling he was witnessing something he shouldn’t have. He never saw his friend cry, and somehow the sight of Harry, who faced so many dangers, crying openly in his brother’s arms broke Ron’s heart. Harry continued to whisper, “I’m a boy; I’m a boy; I’m a boy; I’m a boy.”

“We know you’re a boy Harry,” James said. “You’re a boy.”

Harry’s crying slowed before he started coughing. “I’m pathetic,” he spat out once he could talk again. “I’m pathetic James.”

“How are you pathetic?”

Harry sniffled and looked up at James. “Cormac… I said yes to him, to look at his clothes. I barely remember it. Our eyes met and I felt strange, a heat rising inside me as he… stripped his shirt off and I… I started licking his body. Oh god why didn’t I curse him—I should have hexed him but I didn’t! I just sat there feeling not myself licking and worshiping his body like he’s some kind of monument! I should have hexed him, I should have—he got me talking and my mind went to Krum. I told him how Krum joked that I’ll be his wife and Cor—McLaggen hooked onto it. He started calling me his wife… and a girl. …He made me take my shirt off and—James I should have hexed him, I should have done all those awful spells we know but I didn’t! Why didn’t I do that? Why was I so weak? And the heat! That damn heat! James I don’t know what that was!”

“It’s okay Harry,” James said. “McLaggen must have done something to you, the bastard. It’s not your fault. It’s not your fault.”

“But I should have done something! I just sat there licking him! Letting him talk about how—how he was going to give me boobs! I don’t want boobs!” Harry yelled loudly. If this was any other situation Ron found that he would have snickered, but instead he just frowned, a growing rage burning inside him.

“Keep away from the git!” Ron snarled out. Harry turned, surprised to see Ron. “Keep away from him. I’ll tell Fred and George and they’ll send stuff to use against him.”

“No!” Harry said quickly. ‘No! Don’t tell them! Don’t do anything, please!”

“Harry, we have to do something—the guy practically assaulted you!” James said. “We’re telling Professor McGonagall at least.”

Harry bit his lip. “Okay… tell McGonagall. But don’t do anything else! I don’t want you guys to get in trouble,” he said.

“Of course not Harry, of course not,” James said. “Come on… we’ll sit here until you’re ready. Okay?” Harry nodded.

“I’ll go get you some food, alright Harry?” Ron said. “I’m sure Dobby’ll make you a feast.”

“Thanks Ron,” Harry said.

The twins stayed together as Ron exited the room. “Malfoy!” he yelled out, seeing Draco’s retreating form. “What are you up to, you slimy git?”

“Planning Weasley,” Draco said stopping and turning on his feet. “You two promised Harry you’ll do nothing, but I didn’t.”

“You bastard, you heard the whole thing?”

“Of course I did! Once I saw Harry running I chased after him,” Draco said. “You and Potter can tell Professor McGonagall about what happened, but I am going after McLaggen personally.”

Ron stared at Draco for a moment. “You’re serious about Harry,” he said as if realizing it for the first time.

“Of course, I am Weasley,” Draco said. He was silent for a moment. “I’ll see you in the Room of Requirement.”

“Yeah… sure…” Ron said, still stunned. He watched Draco’s retreating form until it disappeared then continued on his way to the kitchens.

The next day Harry was mostly silent. James made sure to always be by his side, asking Harry if he could tell Hermione about what happened. Harry agreed and James told Hermione the facts, leaving it short and to the point to save Harry an embarrassment. Hermione was livid when James was done, but agreed with Harry that they should tell Professor McGonagall immediately. McLaggen tried to talk with Harry only one time but James, Hermione, and Ron scared him away, the three giving him glares while Harry just continued eating his food, feeling spoiled and dirty. They waited until the end of their last class, which was Herbology, to tell Professor McGonagall. She was in her office.

“Yes boys, is there a problem?” she asked as James and Harry walked into the office.

“We need to tell you something,” James said. “Something… bad happened to Harry.”

“Oh dear… come in, come in, and close the door,” Professor McGonagall said, ushering them into the small room with a large welcoming fire. James closed the door behind him and they sat down

She looked between the two Potters. “What happened?” she asked.

“Harry?” James asked, looking at his brother.

Harry shook his head, “I’ll tell her,” he said. He looked up at Professor McGonagall. “Cormac McLaggen… did something to me. I don’t know how to explain it. During the week he’d been talking to me, and every time I look at his face I feel… strange, not like myself. Yesterday during dinner he asked me to come to his dormitory and I don’t know why but I agreed. … My mind becomes fuzzy then. It was like I couldn’t think straight, I couldn’t think at all. He… did things to me. I can’t remember much… but I couldn’t control myself—I wasn’t myself—he made me do things…”

“Say no more Harry,” Professor McGonagall said, her expression thin. “Have a biscuit, Potter.”

“What?”

“Have a biscuit,” Professor McGonagall said pushing a small tin towards Harry. Harry looked confused but reached out to one of the small cookies in the tin.

“I will bring this to Professor Dumbledore immediately,” Professor McGonagall said. “Mr. McLaggen’s actions are inexcusable, we will make sure that he receives extreme punishment. Thank you for bringing this to my attention Harry.”

Harry just nodded.

“One more thing,” Professor McGonagall said. She opened a drawer and pulled out a rather large scroll of parchment. “I have finished grading your essay, and I must say I am very impressed. This is the first essay you have given to me that even surpass Miss Granger’s in term of length and detail. I must say that I am very impressed Harry. You have done an excellent job.”

“Thank you,” Harry said softly as Professor McGonagall handed him his essay. James looked over his shoulder as Harry unrolled it, seeing a neat black “O” on the top of it. Harry rolled his essay up again and they left Professor McGonagall’s office, Harry feeling somewhat better from his grade.

They didn’t talk about McLaggen or their visit to McGonagall during dinner. Instead both boys kept the conversation on whatever Dumbledore will be teaching them later that night. Harry looked up to the staff table every now and then to see Professor McGonagall talking with Dumbledore, a serious expression on both their faces. After dinner, Harry, James, Ron, and Hermione went back to the common room. When it was five to eight Harry stood up. “We should go, or we’ll be late for Dumbledore,” he said to James.

“Good luck!” Hermione gasped. “We’ll wait up, we want to hear what he teaches you!”

“Hope it goes okay,” Ron said, and the pair of them watched the twins leave through the portrait hole.

Harry and James proceeded through deserted corridors until they reached the spot in the seventh-floor corridor where a single gargoyle stood against the wall.

“Acid Pops,” James said, and the gargoyle leapt aside; the wall behind it slid apart, and a moving spiral stone staircase was revealed, onto which Harry and James stepped so that they were carried in smooth circles up to the door with the brass knocker that led to Dumbledore’s office.

Harry knocked.

“Come in,” Dumbledore’s voice said.

“Good evening, sir,” James said, walking into the headmaster’s office with Harry.

“Ah, good evening boys. Sit down,” Dumbledore said. “I hope you’ve had an enjoyable first week back at school?”

“Yes, thanks, sir,” Harry said.

“So, Harry, James. You have been wondering, I am sure, what I have planned for you during these—for want of a better word—lessons?”

“Yes, sir,” both twins said.

“Well, I have decided that it is time, now that you know what prompted Lord Voldemort to try and kill you both fifteen years ago, for you to be given certain information.”

There was a pause; the twins shared a look.

“You said, at the end of last term, you were going to tell us everything,” Harry said. It was hard to keep a note of accusation from his voice.

“And so I did,” Dumbledore said placidly. “I told you everything I know. From this point forth, we shall be leaving the firm foundation of fact and journeying together through the murky marshes of memory into thickets of wildest guesswork. From here on in, Harry, James, I may be as woefully wrong as Humphrey Belcher, who believe the time was ripe for a cheese cauldron.”

“But you think you’re right?” James asked.

“Naturally, I do, but as I have already proven to you, I make mistakes like the next man.”

“Will any of this help us survive?” Harry asked.

“I certainly hope that it will help you to survive,” Dumbledore said. He stood up and walked around the desk, past Harry and James, who turned eagerly in their seats to watch Dumbledore bending over the cabinet beside the door. When Dumbledore straightened up, he was holding a Pensieve. He placed it on the desk in front of the twins.

“We’re going to watch memories?” Harry asked.

“Precisely,” Dumbledore said. “Specifically, the memories of a Bob Ogden, an employee of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. We are going to accompany him on a visit he made in the course of his duties. If you would stand, boys…” Dumbledore poured the memory into the pensieve, where they swirled and shimmered, neither liquid nor gas.

“After you,” Dumbledore said, gesturing toward the bowl.

Harry and James bent down in unison, plunging their faces into silvery substance. Harry felt his feet leave the office floor; he was falling, falling through whirling darkness and then, quite suddenly, he was blinking in dazzling sunlight.

Draco Malfoy was pacing the common room. Only a week since he and Weasley started his training, and already results were starting to show. Weasley told him that the weights they were using were magical, giving them the results they wanted quicker than muggle weights, and Draco was satisfied to find that he was not lying. His arms were more veiny, which Weasley told him would be temporary, as his skin and body get used to the small biceps and muscles Harry was forming. His chest muscles were beginning to form, the suggestion of muscles there. His stomach was also hinting abs, which will show fully if he sucks his stomach in. “What is the matter?” Blaise asked.

“Harry,” Draco said. “McLaggen has done something to Harry.”

Blaise grabbed Draco’s arm and pulled him towards him. “What do you mean?” he said, looking extremely worried. “What did McLaggen do?”

Draco sighed and told Blaise what he had heard. When he was done, the dark-skinned Slytherin was shaking in anger. “That bastard,” he cursed. He looked at Draco. “What are we going to do?”

“I don’t know… I’m still thinking,” Draco said.

“We’re going to do something,” Blaise said. “He tried to—he tried to ruin our Potter!”

“My Potter!” Draco corrected him.

“He was my friend before you even noticed him,” Blaise said. “The point of the matter is, what are we going to do?”

Draco was silent for a moment. He looked up at Blaise and said, “Weasley was talking about his twin brothers—the successful ones with the joke shop. … Perhaps we can start with them?”

“Pranks? Really?” Blaise smirked.

“I’m sure if we tell them what is going on, they’ll only be too glad to help,” Draco said. “I am also sure that they have more… harmful products waiting for special purposes.”

Blaise looked at Draco and his smirk. “Oh, I see what you mean,” Blaise said, sharing a smirk with Draco. They both just smirked at each other for a moment before heading off to the dormitory to get a piece of parchment. They had a letter to write.

“Er—good morning, I’m from the Ministry of Magic—“

“You’re not welcome.”

“Er—I’m sorry—I don’t understand you,” Ogden said nervously.

Harry thought Ogden was being extremely dim; the stranger was making himself very clear in Harry’s opinion, particularly as he was brandishing a wand in one hand and a short and rather bloody knife in the other.

“You understand him, I’m sure, Harry? James?” Dumbledore said quietly.

“Yes of course,” Harry said, slightly nonplussed.

“I don’t,” James said. “He’s just hissing.”

“He’s speaking Parseltongue!?” Harry gasped.

“Very good,” Dumbledore said, nodding and smiling. The man in rags was now advancing on Ogden, knife in one hand, wand in the other.

“Now, look—“Ogden began but too late: There was a bang, and Ogden was on the ground, clutching his nose, while a nasty yellowish goo squirted from between his fingers.

“Morfin!” a loud voice said.

An elderly man had come hurrying out of the cottage, banging the door behind him so that the dead snake on it swung pathetically. This man was short, and oddly proportioned; his shoulders were very broad and his arms overlong, which, with his bright brown eyes, short, scrubby hair, and wrinkled face, gave him the look of a powerful, aged monkey. He came to a halt beside the man with the knife, who was now cackling with laughter at the sight of Ogden on the ground.

“Ministry, is it?” the older man said, looking down at Ogden.

“Correct!” Ogden said angrily. “And you, I take it, are Mr. Gaunt?”

“S’right,” Gaunt said. “Got you in the face, did he?”

“Why are we watching this?” James whispered. “What does this have to do with the prophecy?”

“They speak Parseltongue,” Harry whispered back. “Maybe they’re related to Voldemort. I remember he did boast about being a descendant from Slytherin. These people must be his family.”

“Shoddy family then,” James said. “Rags and a dilapidated cottage? I would have expected more from Voldemort.”

“I know… still I cannot see Voldemort living here,” Harry said. “His last name is Riddle, not Gaunt, and he doesn’t look like any of these people.”

“Maybe he’s an offspring of one of them? Look, there’s a girl!” James pointed out as they followed Ogden and the older man into the cottage. It seemed to contain three tiny rooms. Two doors led off the main room, which served as kitchen and living room combined. The girl James pointed out was standing beside a steaming pot on a grimy black stove, and was fiddling around with the shelf of squalid-looking pots and pans above it. Her hair was lank and dull and she had a plain, pale, rather heavy face. Harry thought he never seen such a defeated person.

“M'daughter, Merope,” Gaunt said grudgingly, as Ogden looked inquiringly toward her.

“Good Morning,” Ogden said. She did not answer, but with a frightened glance at her father turned her back on the room and continued shifting the pots on the shelf behind her.

“Poor thing,” James whispered. “I’m guessing she might be treated like us.”

“I guess so…” Harry said. “Only thing she never had a brother like you to defend herself from these two men.”

“If she is related to Voldemort, maybe the thing she did was to get away from them?” James suggested.

“That would give Voldemort some pity right?” Harry asked. “Knowing that his relative had to be brought up in such harsh environments?”

“Yeah…” James frowned. He turned to Harry. “Harry if this is remind you of—“

“I’m okay. I had you.”

“You have me, Harry. And you always will.”

“Thanks—oh god!” Harry gasped as Gaunt yelled at Ogden.

“And you think we’re scum, do you? He screamed, advancing on Ogden now, with a dirty yellow-nailed finger pointing at his chest. “Scum who’ll come running when the Ministry tells ‘em to? DO you know who you’re talking to, you filthy little Mudblood, do you?”

“I was under the impression that I was speaking to Mr. Gaunt,” Ogden said, looking wary, but standing his ground.

“That’s right,” Gaunt roared. For a moment, Harry thought Gaunt was making an obscene hand gesture, but then realized that he was showing Ogden the ugly, black-stoned ring he was wearing on his middle finger, waving it before Ogden’s eyes. “See this? See this? Know what it is? Know where it came from? Centuries it’s been in our family, that’s how far back we go, and pure-blood all the way! Know how much I’ve been offered for this, with the Peverell coat of arms engraved on the stone?”

“I’ve really no idea,” Ogden said, blinking as the ring sailed within an inch of his nose, “and it’s quite beside the point, Mr. Gaunt. Your son has committed—“

With a howl of rage, Gaunt ran toward his daughter. For a split second, Harry thought he was going to throttle her as his hand flew to her throat; next moment, he was dragging her toward Ogden by a gold chain around her neck.

“See this?” he bellowed at Ogden, shaking a heavy gold locket at him, while Merope spluttered and gasped for breath.

“I see it, I see it!” Ogden said hastily.

“Slytherin’s! Gaunt yelled. “Salazar Slytherin’s! We’re his last living descendants, what do you say to that, sir?”

“I think I got it,” Harry whispered. “These are Voldemort’s family. One of them is going to be Voldemort’s parent, or grandparent… no parent, we’re looking at Voldemort’s parent. Aren’t we sir?” Harry looked at Dumbledore, who was silent the entire time. James forgot that he was even there.

“You are correct in this part Harry,” Dumbledore said. “Now please be quiet and simply watch.”

Harry sighed but nodded. The twins watched the scene playout in front of them. Gaunt continued to yell at Ogden as the Ministry worker tried to do his work. They were interrupted by a loud, laughing voice that drifted through the window. Everyone seemed to freeze as a muggle couple passed through. The two muggles gasped at the cottage, and Harry gasped when the woman called the man “Tom.” Harry’s eyes flew to Merope to see her face stark white as if she was going to faint. Morfin laughed and mocked her.

“Tom Riddle,” Harry whispered. “The man was Tom Riddle… he must be Voldemort’s father.”

“It seems that we have watched enough. Come along boys,” Dumbledore said. He took the boys’ elbows and tugged. Next moment, they were soaring weightlessly through darkness, until they landed squarely on their feet, back in Dumbledore’s now twilit office.

“Since you have correctly guessed that the Tom Riddle we heard is Voldemort’s father, Harry, would you care to speculate about what happened?” Dumbledore asked, watching Harry carefully.

“Okay,” Harry nodded. He looked at James for a moment. “Do you understand?” he asked.

“Think so,” James shrugged.

“Merope, or whatever her name is, seduced Tom Riddle somehow, either through the Imperius Curse or a love potion, anything that made Tom forget about his girlfriend. They must have eloped, Merope must have been constantly feeding Tom Riddle love potions, and during that time she must have gotten pregnant… with Voldemort. Am I correct sir?”

“You are indeed, Harry,” Dumbledore nodded.

“Oh! I get it!” James said. “After she gotten pregnant, she must have stopped giving Tom Riddle those potions. Voldemort was raised in an orphanage, remember Harry? So maybe Tom Riddle left her once the potions stopped, revolted that she did such an awful underhanded thing. Maybe she stopped because she thought the love potions took root and Riddle would love her for real.”

“But that’s not possible,” Harry said.

“No, it is not Harry,” Dumbledore said. “Continue, James.”

James nodded. “Riddle left her pregnant, most likely never thinking of her, or really troubling himself with her existence for the rest of his life. Alone and heartbroken, not to mention effectively homeless and dirt poor, childbirth must have been too much for her and she died, causing Voldemort to be raised in an orphanage.”

“And with that, I think that will do for tonight, Harry, James,” Dumbledore said after a moment or two. “If I could, I would award each of you points for your deduction tonight.”

“Is it important to learn about Voldemort’s past?” Harry asked.

“Very important, I think,” Dumbledore said.

“And it… it’s got something to do with the prophecy?”

“It has everything to do with the prophecy.”

“Right…” the boys said, looking at each other in confusion.

“It is late. So goodnight, to each of you,” Dumbledore said. He gently ushered them out of his office.

Harry and James walked down the corridor. James was watching his brother very closely. “Harry, you’re thinking of something,” he said.

“Yeah I am,” Harry said looking at his brother.

“What about?” James asked as they turned a corner.

“Dumbledore is showing us Voldemort’s past, there is something that he wants us to learn, but I don’t see it.”

“Well maybe it’ll become more apparent later on,” James said.

“Then there’s that ring… the one Gaunt shown Ogden? Dumbledore was wearing it!” Harry said.

“He was?”

“Yeah,” Harry nodded. “I think there’s something Dumbledore isn’t telling us.”

“Well… that’s how Dumbledore is,” James sighed. “Keeping secrets until the last second.”

“If he didn’t though… maybe Sirius would have…”

“I know,” James said. “Come on, let’s go to bed. We need sleep. Especially you.”

“Yeah,” Harry sighed. They made their way back to Gryffindor Tower where Ron and Hermione were waiting. After telling them all they saw and speculated about, Harry told Hermione that he was too tired to talk about it more tonight. Hermione agreed and the four bade each other goodnight. Harry, James, and Ron made their way into the boys’ dormitory and Harry went along his nighttime ritual of putting today’s memories into his diary. He opened it and did his best to ignore Thursday’s entry, turning to a new page and placing his memories into it, sighing deeply as he did so. He turned to see that Ron was already snoring and James was standing in his pajama bottoms, waiting for Harry. Feeling both mentally and physically exhausted, Harry just pulled off his clothes, standing only in his underwear, and curled up in James’s bed. He felt James getting in behind him and pulled his brother’s arm over him. “Watching that memory… and everything with McLaggen taught me something James,” Harry whispered. “We can’t trust anyone else with our hearts. …They’ll only break it. We really only have each other.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 9

Harry felt unseasonably warm. The heat burned softly deep inside him, making his bones slightly uncomfortable that at times he couldn’t stay still. It was like a small fire was lit inside him using his bones as kindle as the heat slowly grew and grew, focusing strangely on his chest and pelvis. Much to his embarrassment he found that he was getting erections more frequently; any time a male touched him sent a small spark that added to the constant fire that burned inside him. He felt his hole pulsating with a need that he never felt before. Late at night Harry writhed and groan as his pulsating hole seemed to be on fire with need. His was sweating more than usual and found himself kissing his brother and Ron’s cheeks more often. With each kiss whatever heat inside him seemed to recede for a moment before coming back. There were days where he just peppered his brother’s cheeks with kisses whenever he could, telling James about the strange heat he was feeling inside him and how his bones ached. James didn’t know what was going on with Harry, but didn’t mind the extra attention his brother was giving him. On the days when the heat really annoyed Harry, James just sat back, placed his arms behind his head and smirked as Harry covered his cheeks and forehead with kisses during their breaks, which were quickly becoming an attempt to keep up with the vast amount of homework they were being set.

Not only were they studying as though they had exams every day, but the lessons themselves had becoming more demanding than ever before. Harry was always perfect at Transfiguration, but once or twice he had to ask Professor McGonagall to repeat instructions once or twice. Nonverbal spells were now expected, not only in Defense Against the Dark Arts, but in Charms and Transfiguration too. Harry frequently looked over at his classmates in the common room or at mealtimes to see them purple in the face and straining as though they had overdosed on U-No-Poo, but he knew that they were really struggling to make spells work without saying incantations aloud. It was a relief to get outside into the greenhouses; they were dealing with more dangerous plants than ever in Herbology, but at least they were still allowed to swear loudly if the Venomous Tentacula seized them unexpectedly from behind.

One result of their enormous workload and the frantic hours of practicing nonverbal spells was that Harry, James, Ron, and Hermione had so far been unable to find time to go and visit Hagrid. He had stopped coming to meals at the staff table, an ominous sign, and on the few occasions when they had passed him in the corridors or out in the grounds, he had mysteriously failed to notice them or hear their greetings.

“We got to go and explain,” Hermione said, looking up at Hagrid’s huge empty chair at the staff table the following Saturday at breakfast.

“We’ve got Quidditch tryouts this morning!” Ron said. “And we’re supposed to be practicing the Aguamenti Charm from Flitwick! Anyway, explain what? How are we going to tell him we hated his stupid subject?”

“We didn’t hate it!” Hermione said.

“Speak for yourself, I haven’t forgotten the skrewts,” Ron said darkly. “And I’m telling you now, we’ve had a narrow escape. You didn’t hear him going on about his gormless brother—we’d have been teaching Grawp how to tie his shoelaces if we stayed.”

“We’ll go after Quidditch,” James said. “I miss talking to Hagrid.” Harry nodded, agreeing, as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “But trials might take all morning, the number of people who have applied.”

“As if it’s Quidditch that’s popular,” Harry said under his breath, seemingly jealous.

“What?”

“All those people staring at you—those girls wanting you—it’s disgusting,” Harry whispered, moving irritably in his seat.

“Is your… thing making you uncomfortable?” James asked.

“Yeah… but I don’t want him to notice,” Harry said coldly, his eyes shifting to the end of the table where Cormac McLaggen sat laughing with his friends. The twins don’t know why he was still there, Dumbledore must be working on getting him out, he must have. But at least Professor McGonagall was acting stricter towards McLaggen.

James glared down the table. He could never understand how people like McLaggen still roam the earth. The post owls arrived, swooping down through rain-flecked windows, scattering everyone with droplets of water. James stopped glaring as he got wet. Most people were receiving more post than usual; anxious parents were keen to hear from their children and to reassure them, in turn, that all was well at home. The twins received no mall since the start of term; their only regular correspondent was now dead and although they had hoped that Lupin might write occasionally, they had so far been disappointed. Harry was very surprised, therefore, to see the snowy white Hedwig circling amongst all the brown and gray owls. She landed in front of him carrying a large, square package. A moment later, an identical package landed in front of Ron, crushing beneath it his minuscule and exhausted owl, Pigwidgeon.

“Ha!” Harry said, unwrapping the parcel to reveal a new copy of Advanced Potion-Making, fresh from Flourish and Blotts.

“Oh good,” Hermione said delighted. “Now you can give that graffitied copy back.

“As if,” Harry said. “I’m keeping it.” He pulled out the old copy of Advanced Potion-Making out of his bag and tapped the cover with his wand. The cover fell off. He did the same thing with the brand-new book (Hermione looked scandalized). He then swapped the covers, tapped each, and the repaired themselves.

There sat the Prince’s copy, disguised as a new book, and there sat the fresh copy from Flourish and Blotts, looking thoroughly secondhand. “How devious of you Harry,” James smirked. “Slughorn won’t complain about the new copy.”

Hermione pressed her lips together, looking angry and disapproving, but was distracted by a third owl landing in front of her carrying that day’s copy of the Daily Prophet. She unfolded it hastily and scanned the front page.

“Anyone we know dead?” Ron asked.

“No, but there have been more dementor attacks,” Hermione said. “And an arrest.”

“Excellent! Who?” Harry asked, thinking of Bellatrix Lestrange.

“Stan Shunpike,” Hermione said.

“What?” the twins said, startled.

“’Stand Shunpike, conductor on the popular Wizarding conveyance the Knight Bus, has been arrested on suspicion of Death Eater activity. Mr. Shunpike, 21, was taken into custody late last night after a raid on his Clapham home. …’”

“Stan Shunpike a Death Eater?” Harry said, remembering the spotty youth he “I had first met three years ago. “No way!”

“Is the Ministry becoming stupider or something!” James said.

“Looks like it,” Ron said.

“They probably want to look as though they’re doing something,” Hermione said, frowning. “People are terrified—you know the Patil twins’ parents want them to go home? And Eloise Midgen had already been withdrawn. Her father picked her up last night.

“What? But Hogwarts is safer than their homes, bound to be!” Ron said. “We got Dumbledore!”

“I don’t think we’ve got him all the time,” Hermione said very quietly, glancing toward the staff table over the top of the Prophet. “Haven’t you noticed? His seat’s been empty as often as Hagrid’s this past week.”

Harry, James and Ron looked up at the staff table. The headmaster’s chair was indeed empty. “Come on,” James sighed. “We’ll think of this later, it’s time for the tryouts.”

They left the Gryffindor table. As Harry expected, the trials took most of the morning. Half of the Gryffindor House seemed to have turned up, from first years who were nervously clutching a selection of the dreadful old school brooms, to seventh years who towered over the rest, looking coolly intimidating. The latter included the large, wiry-haired boy that Harry never wanted to see again.

“Harry baby there you are,” Cormac smirked. “How is my little wife doing? What happened? You ran away before I could show you your clothes.”

“Stay away from me,” Harry said, ignoring the heat inside him. Cormac smirked knowingly. “You can’t resist what’s going on inside you Harry baby. You’re feeling like a fire is burning inside you, aren’t you?”

“How did—“

“Because I know what you are,” Cormac smirked. “Of course I can make you feel better Harry. All you have to do is say that you’re my girl.”

“Never!” Harry spat.

“McLaggen! The hell you doing to my brother?” James yelled as he ran to them from Ron.

“What?” Cormac said loudly. “I can’t tryout for the Quidditch team?”

“Hell no you can’t,” James said. “Get away from my Seeker and off of my Quidditch pitch!”

Cormac smirked. “I’ll see you later princess,” he said to Harry. “You’ll realize that you’ll need to be my wife soon enough. The heat inside you will grow too much.” He turned to walk away.

“Stop!” Harry yelled. “What did you do to me!”

Cormac stopped and smiled sweetly at Harry. “I did nothing to you baby Harry,” he said. “What you’re feeling is all you. I just awoken what’s inside of you… goodbye now.”

Harry watched with a growing irritability as McLaggen left with his friends, all of them looking back before saying words like “wife” and “lucky man.” Harry groaned as all of a sudden the heat inside him flared to unbearable levels. His cock was rock hard and leaking profusely. “James,” he gritted, sitting down quickly and moving his robes so to hide his now stained pants.

“I swear I’ll find out what happened to you Harry,” James said. Harry just groaned, his eyes full with need. “Go wait by Ron,” James said. “I’ll deal with most of the tryouts.”

Harry nodded and stood up, doing his best to walk casually to Ron who was waiting near the stands. “What’s the matter?” Ron asked.

“Don’t know,” Harry said.

“Ron!” a voice said from the stands. They both turned to see Colin Creevey waving wildly and grinning.

“Hey there,” Ron smirked. “What you doing here?”

“I’m here to watch you of course!” Colin smiled. “No pressure!”

Ron blushed but smiled back at his boyfriend. Harry looked around the stands and frowned confusingly when he saw Blaise and Draco sitting. Blaise gave him a smile and a small wave, which Harry returned half-heartedly, the heat still irritating him. James had all the applicants for the team to divide into groups of ten and fly once around the pitch.

“Something’s wrong with Harry,” Draco said watching Harry fly around.

“You noticed it too,” Blaise hummed.

“Of course I did!” Draco said. “I just don’t know what!”

“McLaggen, obviously,” Blaise said. “Strange… I wonder if Harry could be one. If he is… then that would mean his twin would be one as well,” he gave a lewd smirk.

“One what?” Draco asked.

“I often joke that Harry would make a perfect submissive,” Blaise said. “But it seems that he really is one,” Blaise smirked. “At least I think he is… I don’t know.”

“What are you talking about?” Draco asked.

“I need to talk with James and Harry to make sure,” Blaise said. “But I’m almost sure that the twins are, well, special.”

“Special?”

“Well, they’re very skilled at magic,” Blaise said, stating it as if it was an obvious fact. “It’s rare but some wizards are born… like them.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know… there’s no real word for them,” Blaise said, “that’s how rare the twins are. They’re perfectly normal except for this one thing. It’s pretty lewd when you think about it,” he chuckled.

“What?” Draco asked irritated. “Stop playing around and tell me what you’re thinking about!”

“If Harry is feeling a certain heat inside him… then that means that he, and by extension James, can get pregnant,” Blaise said. “But he can’t be feeling these feelings now.”

“Why not?”

“Because the one source that talks about this,” Blaise explained, “says that what Harry experiences shouldn’t start until he comes of age.”

“Huh… strange,” Draco said. He leaned forward and glared as he watched McLaggen and his friends finally leave the pitch after hanging around for a while. “What did that bastard do?” he growled out.

“I don’t know, but I will be telling James about this today,” Blaise said. “He needs to know what is happening with Harry. During that time, Draco, I suggest you talk with Harry… show him your new body.”

“Good idea,” Draco said, looking down at his growing muscles. Blaise shook his head ruefully. They sat back and watched the Quidditch Tryouts. Even with whatever the thing Harry has bothering him, the Potter still outshone all other applicants who hoped to become Seeker. “As if they’re better than Harry blood Potter,” Draco muttered. But the end of the tryouts the twins had their new team. James was continuing his role as Keeper and Harry is still their Seeker while Ron and a weedy looking boy named Ritchie Coote were his Beaters; Katie, Demelza, and Ginny finished the team as their three Chasers. As the tryouts went on those who were rejected decided to stay in the stands, joining Draco and Blaise as a small rowdy crowd gathered. The two stood up, “I think we should go and try to talk with James and Harry now,” Blaise said.

“Alright,” Draco said. They made their way out of the stands and looked for the twins. Draco saw them first; they were heading towards the small cottage along with Weasley and Granger. “What are they doing with that oaf?” Draco sneered.

“Who knows,” Blaise said, an equally disgusted look on his face as well. “Let’s wait here?” he pointed to the courtyard outside the main entrance.

“Sure,” Draco said. They made their way to the courtyard and sat on a stone bench. Draco leaned back and looked at the sky above them. “The Weasley twins didn’t write back yet,” he told Blaise.

“Really?” Blaise asked. “It’s been almost a week, but we did put in a huge order.”

“Yeah that’s true,” Draco nodded.

They heard voices walking up to them and decided to be quiet. Cormac McLaggen was walking up with a few of his friends. “You okay? I thought you were gay, Cormac!” one of them said.

“Of course, I’m gay,” Cormac said. “I’m gay as a damn fairy. But you have to admit that Harry dressed up in a girl’s uniform is sexy.”

“Yeah, I think he’ll look cute in that,” the first friend said. “Why are you even obsessed with Potter as a girl anyway?”

Cormac stopped and turned to his friends. “Just something that Harry told me about,” he said with a confident smile. “But the important thing is that he looks to be in pain; bones aching and everything. I can’t believe he’s one of them. First one in like two hundred years.”

“Bet your dad will be happy, huh?” the second friend said.

“Yeah… him…” Cormac said, looking down to his feet, a dark look overcame his handsome face, as if remembering an awful, traumatic event.

“Shit! Sorry! I forgot!”

“No, it’s okay,” Cormac said softly shrugging slightly and shaking his head. He whispered to himself, “I’m not an abomination. I’m not.” He looked up to his friends and gave a big, fake smile. “Who cares about that asshole? I got my uncle… and Potter.”

“Well… you have your uncle,” his first friend said. Cormac gave him a sharp look. “I-I’m sure you can uhh flirt Harry up soon?”

“Of course I will,” Cormac said. “His body is basically in heat. It’s like his bones are grinding against each other and his body feels on fire. It’ll build and build and build until he has a release, and that release is me.”

“How so?”

“Well… I moved too fast on our first date, I’ll admit that. I was going to save going all the way till our wedding night, but since he’s in this state… we’ll get have to, you know, get to know each other better until we do it,” Cormac said.

“Ohh… I see,” the first friend said, looking somewhat uncomfortable about talking about gay sex.

“Yeah,” Cormac said. “Then afterwards we can be a normal couple. Of course that heat will return every now and then, but we’ll be at the point where that doesn’t matter. Then before we know it, he’ll be meeting my uncle and my father… …he’ll be meeting my uncle and he’ll give us his blessings.”

“Thinking of marriage already Cor? That’s unlike you,” the second friend laughed.

“Gotta think big when you’re dealing with the Potters,” Cormac smirked. “Come on, I want to tell my uncle the great news!” Cormac and his friends left the courtyard and went into the castle, never seeing either Draco or Blaise.

The two Slytherins looked at each other. They stayed quiet for a moment. Blaise broke it. “I’m surprise you didn’t go after him Draco,” he said. “He called Harry his wife.”

“I was too busy listening,” Draco said. “Did you hear him whisper to himself?”

“No, what did he say?” Blaise asked.

“’I’m not an abomination,’” Draco said. “And he doesn’t want to talk about his father. Always his uncle.”

“He was like that in the Slug Club as well, I remember,” Blaise said. “He mentioned his father once but always focused on his uncle.”

“I wonder what happened to him, and how his relationship with his father is,” Draco said. He looked at Blaise, contemplating.

“We could always find out,” Blaise said. “I mean, my mother can get information from just about anyone.”

“Would you do that?” Draco asked.

“This involves Harry. Of course, I will,” Blaise said. “That boy thinks he can take one of my Potter twins without asking for my permission? Hell no.”

“Then… I guess we also have a letter to write as well,” Draco said. He turned back to the grounds, looking out at them, his eyes focusing on the cottage on the edge of the forest. “They’ll be a while.”

It was dark when they left Hagrid’s hut. Their friend again, Hagrid told Harry and the others about Aragog, the spider in the Forbidden Forest who is dying. They comforted Hagrid and the conversation turned light as the time began to past. Harry was starving when they came out of the hut; the heat inside him still unbearable.

Harry was starving; the smell of roast beef as they entered the hall made Harry’s stomach ache with hunger, but they barely taken three steps towards the Gryffindor table when Professor Slughorn appeared in front of them, blocking their path.

“Harry, James, just the men I was hoping to see!” he boomed genially, twiddling the end of his walrus mustache and puffing out his enormous belly. “I was hoping to catch you before dinner! What do you say to a spot of supper tonight in my room instead? We’re having a little party, just a few rising stars, I’ve got McLaggen coming and Zabini, the charming Melinda Bobbin—I don’t know whether you know her? Her family owns a large chain of apothecaries—and, of course, I hope very much that Miss Granger will favor me by coming too.”

Slughorn made Hermione a little bow as he finished speaking. It was as though Ron was not present; Slughorn did not so much as look at him.

“We can’t Professor,” James said. “We’ve got detention.”

“Oh dear!” Slughorn said, his face falling comically. “Dear, dear, I was counting on you two boys! Well, now, I’ll just have to have a word with whoever decided to give you the detention and explain the situation. I’m sure I’ll be able to persuade them to postpone your detentions. Yes, I’ll see you both later!”

He hustled away out of the Hall without so much as to asking who gave them the detention.

“Oh, I wish you could come, I don’t want to go on my own!” Hermione said anxiously; Harry knew that she was thinking about McLaggen. He was thinking about him too, and wanting to avoid the boy at all cost.

“I doubt you’ll be alone. Ginny’ll probably be invited,” Ron snapped, he did not seem to taken kindly to being ignored by Slughorn.

After dinner Ron excused himself with Malfoy, both of them going to wherever they went for the last month or so. Harry was surprised to see Blaise walk up to them and said, “Harry, James, we need to talk… please?”

“Sure Blaise, what is it?” Harry asked. Blaise looked around and motioned for the twins to follow him. They walked into an empty classroom whose door Blaise closed and locked. “How are you feeling Harry? Be honest,” he said.

Harry and James looked at each other. “I feel hot,” Harry said. “My bones ache… it’s like there’s a fire burning inside me at all times and my only relief is when I kiss James’s cheeks but it’s not enough.”

Blaise nodded. “The fire, where does it burn the hottest?” he asked.

Harry blushed and became very sheepish. “Harry? I’m trying to help you, but I need to be certain,” Blaise said.

Harry looked at his friend. He can’t trust any boys, not after Krum and not after Cormac. He only has his brother. James is all he can truly rely on. But Blaise… can he trust him? Can he trust Blaise, can he trust Ze, after he lied to them for years about his identity? He looked at his brother for help. James looked down and wrapped an arm around Harry. “It’s okay… we can trust him fully again. I’ve been giving it some thought,” he said.

Both Blaise and Harry smiled. Harry looked at Blaise sheepishly. “When I’m horny… the fire burns really hot on my hole… my dick gets hard and sometimes ejaculates when I don’t want it to.”

“I see…” Blaise muttered.

“Blaise! What the hell am I?” Harry demanded with sudden frustration. He could feel the heat rise in him again, his bones started to hurt, his hips aching with a ferocity that he never felt before.

“You’re fully human Harry, don’t worry,” Blaise said. “But as for what’s happening with you… there really isn’t a name for it… and I am not completely sure. You see, it is very rare. The last person who is like you Harry was born hundreds of years ago, and all the information we have is from his diary as well as rumors.” Blaise’s cheeks started to darken as he continued talking. “The heat that you’re feeling? It… It is from an… increased sexual desire. Your magic is so powerful Harry that… that it is linked with your um desire. At least that’s how I think it works. The guy’s journal isn’t exactly the best.”

“I’m confused,” James said.

“Me too,” Harry groaned. “What do you mean sexual desire?”

“Okay… how can I explain it?” Blaise said. “Imagine you’re a dog or any other mammal. They get heats when they’re… ready for impregnation. Basically Harry… you’re magic is powerful enough that it can create its own womb, you can have a baby. The heat is your magic telling you that your body is ready to have one at this time. … But there’s a problem! According to the guy’s journal this feeling didn’t even start till he was of age. You’re early! Try to think Harry, how did these feeling start?”

“I… I can… I can get pregnant?” Harry gasped. He stared at Blaise, shocked at this reveal. No, he has to be kidding right? There is no way he and James can deal with this along with everything else!

“Yes you can,” Blaise nodded. “But think Harry, when did this all start?”

Harry nodded, looking ashamed. “I know when this all started… Cormac McLaggen. …He did things to me. We were along and… our eyes kept meeting; I was licking him everywhere, I just couldn’t get enough! He kept calling me his wife and… and…” Harry gave out a cry.

“Did he…”

“No, I ran away before we did anything serious,” Harry said. “I just licked his body.”

Blaise sighed in relief. “Then, and again I am guessing, that yours and Cormac’s… activities must have awaken the heat inside you,” Blaise said.

“How do I stop it?” Harry asked, groaning loudly and flinching when he felt his butt opening up and closing in need. He bit his lip to keep a surprising moan from escaping.

Blaise’s cheeks flared as did James’s. “I… I don’t know…” Blaise said. “If this heat is brought on by sexual desire… maybe if you uhh… play with yourself? God I can’t say it!”

“It’s okay I get the idea,” Harry said, whose face looked redder than Ron’s hair. He was shuffling from foot to foot. “I have to… jerk off and play with my err hole.”

“Exactly,” Blaise said, his voice strangely high.

Harry looked between Blaise and James. He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Is… is that all?” he asked Blaise.

“Yeah but umm… James? Can I talk with you… privately?”

“Yeah, sure,” James said.

“I’ll… get going then… James if you see my curtains closed…” Harry blushed as he walked out of the classroom, leaving only James and Blaise.

James turned to Blaise and said, “Is there anything you don’t want Harry to know? About this heat thing? Because you know that I will tell him immediately.”

“No it’s not about Harry,” Blaise said, his face still deeply flushed. “It’s… it’s about you… and me.”

“What about it?”

Blaise sighed. “I don’t want to be vague about this so I’m just going to say it. James, I like you. A lot. And I want us to be boyfriends.”

“Boyfriends?” James repeated.

“Yes, boyfriends,” Blaise said. “I’ve had a crush on you since fifth year and… and I don’t want to keep waiting. I know that you and Harry have a special relationship, I don’t want to ruin that or my relationship with Harry, but… but I want us to be together. James Potter… will you let me do that? Can you give me one date?”

James stared at Blaise for a moment, taking in his beauty. They were the same height, but James was muscular whereas Blaise was skinny; a beautiful slender prince of Slytherin to James’s knight of Gryffindor. His eyes were sharp, enticing to look at and seemed to suck you in once you do. Every proportion of Blaise seemed perfect. And if James was honest with himself, if he and Blaise were boyfriends then at least they wouldn’t have the awkward conversations that plagued all other couples. And Harry already knows and likes Blaise. Before he knew it, James was smiling.

“Yeah… one date,” James said.

Blaise smiled brightly. “Thank you James. … Can I hug and kiss you?”

James chuckled and opened his arms. Blaise grabbed James, and using the Gryffindor’s shock to his advantage, pulled James into his arms, kissing him on the lips. Blaise had full control of every movement and James was both surprised and thrilled by it. Their kiss was chaste and over before either boy could enjoyed it. “That was… surprising,” James said.

“What? You think you’ll be in control of everything?” Blaise chuckled. “Sorry James, you’re going to have to fight for that.”

“Really? This is going to be more fun than I thought,” James smirked. Blaise laughed and they shared a grin.

“So… first Hogsmeade visit, want to head over to our usual place?” Blaise asked.

“Sure,” James said. “Until then…” he kissed Blaise on his cheek. “See you.” They left the empty classroom together, both boys excited about their first date, but also equally worried about Harry and his reaction.

“So he is one of those? Interesting… I remember the last one lived almost two hundred years ago. Of course, his diary is unreliable. If Harry is indeed like the wizard two hundred years ago, this could be a problem. His heat might distract him or prevent him from fighting Voldemort. It could get him hurt, if not killed before Voldemort is defeated. I cannot have that. The prophecy says that the boys are the only ones who could defeat Voldemort. I’ve already stopped his relationship with the Bulgarian from developing just to make sure the boy stays here, I will not let a simple thing like a heat stand between the world and peace. No his heat must be dealt with. …Minerva did tell me about how it started. Should I allow McLaggen to continue his advances? Perhaps things will work out and Harry will be happy in the end with McLaggen, his heat gone and ready to fulfil the prophecy. Yes… that’ll do… even if both boys don’t want it, it is unfortunately the fastest and easiest way to deal with this problem. As for Zabini and James… I’ll only interfere if the need calls for it. Of course, I’ll need to keep an eye on them while I am away, and figure out what this ‘usual place’ is. I need to know where the boys are at all times.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 10

Draco loved his new body. So much so that, for the first time, he made sure he was alone in the Dormitory just to admire his hard work. He was naturally tall, standing at six foot, but the muscles seemed to somehow make him look bigger. His chest was fully developed, his pale smooth skin radiating like a Greek statue and his nipples stood erect in the cold air like two small pink discs. Draco flexed in front of the mirror, seeing his bulging muscles and smirked sexily, touching his chest as he moved his hands downward, his eyes following. His stomach muscles were fully formed as well; abs permanent visible thanks to a spell Ron taught him; his body now in a V-shaped. After a very embarrassing talk with Ron, Draco was convinced to stop shaving his entire body and now a treasure trail of platinum blond hair started near the bottom of his abs, down his pelvis, and gathering in a large bush that was neatly trimmed and surrounded his flaccid, girthy cock. He turned around and admire his ass. Before it was flat, his entire body was flat, but now… now there was an obvious big curve, a nice bubble of muscles that shaped nicely and lead towards toned legs. Draco admitted his body, slowly moving his hands all over his chest and stomach, closing his eyes and groaning softly as he imagined Harry touching him; Harry holding onto him. His cock started to harden but didn’t get fully hard.

He continued to stare and admire his body. It was mostly hairless, Ron only convinced him to keep his pubic hair, and, while pale, it fitted Draco perfectly. Smooth, undamaged, not even a pimple or hint of one. The only mark, the only disturbance of his perfect skin was the Dark Mark that laid on his inner forearm. Draco held his arm up so that he could stare at the Dark Mark. His stomach boiled, rage brewed, and a sickness overwhelmed him. He closed his eyes and tightened his jaw as he felt bile raise in his throat. Breathing through his nose he forced the bile back down his throat and into his stomach. He kept his eyes closed and continued to breathe slowly until he felt he could open his mouth without vomiting. Opening his eyes, he looked at his Dark Mark once more before grabbing a piece of white cloth and wrapped it around his arm, covering the mark.

With his stain fully covered, he looked at his body once more and did his best to smile. He felt ready to talk to Harry.

Halfway through October came their first trip of the term to Hogsmeade. Harry had wondered whether these trips would still be allowed, given the increasingly tight security measure around the school, but was pleased to know that they were going ahead; it was always good to get out of the castle grounds for a few hours. And he really misses Devilish Temptations. The day before the trip Harry walked into Draco Malfoy. Malfoy looked… different in a very good way. He was much more muscular than he was in the beginning of the year, but not even close to James or Ron both of who had bodies like bodybuilders. But Harry could see Draco’s muscles and his… dominance radiating from the boy. Ever since this weird heat started Harry could always feel this weird… feeling from certain people. A feeling that if they wanted to, they could take control of Harry sexually. It didn’t matter if they wanted to do that, he just felt the feeling from people like Ron, Blaise, Seamus, …McLaggen. But surprisingly not from James. “Malfoy,” Harry said, doing his best to keep a straight face. His heat started to grow inside him.

“Harry… I know that I might be late for this… but I want to talk,” Draco said. “I just didn’t have the confidence to do so before. …”

Harry stared at Draco for a moment. “Alright… … can we talk somewhere public?”

“Public?”

“I… it’s nothing against you… it’s just that… I don’t want to be alone with anyone who isn’t my brother,” Harry admitted.

“Yeah, sure,” Draco nodded. “Wanna head to the library? We’ll take the table in the middle.”

“Yes,” Harry said, smiling in relief. They walked to the library, both boys keeping a safe distance from each other as they walked in silence. Once they reached the library, they ignored everyone who was busy working on their homework and sat in a table in the middle of aisles of bookcases; students walking around them and not giving them a second glance as they were too busy with their own work. Harry sat on one end of the table while Draco sat on the other. Draco stayed silent, allowing Harry to have the first word, he felt like the raven-haired boy needed it.

“What… what do you want to talk about?” Harry asked.

“Many things really, but first I want to say sorry,” Draco said.

“Sorry?”

“Yes, for everything I have done to you since we’ve met,” Draco said. “The journal you gave me… I’ve filled it already, with all the faults and terrible things I’ve done to you, to James, to Ron… and to Hermione. I’ve filled my journal with them to remind me of… of how terrible I was, and so that I know how much I need to repent for. I’m sure you noticed but… my body’s different,” Draco said bashfully, looking at his muscles. “The conversation I had with Ron Weasley in the beginning of the year… that was part of my repentance to him. I asked him to train me physically, to help me get a body that you would be comfortable with. I told Ron that he could ask me to do anything for him, just as long as he trained me. And, well, he made me wear a singlet. A disgusting one with Gryffindor colors,” Draco leaned in. Harry couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight of Draco Malfoy in anything red and gold. “I know, it was nasty,” Draco smiled. “But it actually helped me. … It was rough but Weasley and I got through it and we even began talking on a regular basis. …Gave each other advice on certain matters. …He saw my scar…”

“You have a scar?” Harry asked.

Draco nodded. “I do, not one like you and James obviously, but still it is a scar just the same. A scar that, and I am being honest with you Harry, that I want your help removing. But before that, before we even do anything, I just want to be your friend… like I wanted to be so many years ago before everything got between us.”

“My… friend… Draco, I don’t know,” Harry said. “The last person who tried to get close… he broke me.”

“I know… Ron told me bits of it, but I just want to promise here that I will never break you. I just… I like you Harry, a lot, if we can’t be boyfriends I am fine with that, I just want to be somebody you can trust,” Draco whispered.

“Trust takes time, Draco. Are you sure?” Harry asked.

“I am positive Harry. I want to change, I want to be a better person. But as long as I have this scar… as long as you still hate me… I don’t think I can really be one.”

“Let me see it,” Harry said. “Let me see your scar.” He reached for Draco’s arm. Draco flinched but allowed Harry to push the sleeve of his robe over his forearm, revealing the white cloth that covered it. Harry moved the cloth until he saw a hint of black. He breathed deeply. “How?”

“They forced me, my aunt and him,” Draco said.

“Say his name,” Harry demanded. “Don’t say ‘him’ or ‘the Dark Lord’ but say his name.”

“Okay… Vol—V-Voldemort,” Draco stuttered, doing his best not to flinch at the sound of the name. “My aunt and V-Voldemort forced the Dark Mark on me. They invaded my home after my father was sent to Azkaban. I was sleeping, tired from packing, I was going to go to Blaise’s for the summer. We were supposed to be heading to France. But my Aunt Bellatrix burst into my room with a few other Death Eaters. They woke me up, pulled me out of bed, and kept talking about a ‘great honor’ as my aunt dragged me out of my room. He—Voldemort was waiting in my father’s study. He just gave this sickening grin as we entered. He said some words… but I was too sick to remember them. My aunt grabbed my arm and practically ripped my sleeve off. Voldemort pressed his wand against me… and I felt an awful pain like I never felt before; it was as if my arm was thrust directly into the fire, pressed against the burning wood as it cracked under my skin and a poker was etching into it. The pain grew and grew; and the more pain I felt the louder I yelled. Voldemort did not care, he wanted me to scream, he loved the way I screamed. My aunt Bellatrix just going on about how much of an ‘honor’ this was, and how she wishes she could feel the pain I was feeling again. I thought my arm was going to be burned off; I thought Voldemort was going to rip my arm out leaving only a bloody mess. When it was done… this was here but the pain did not stop in fact it just kept growing and I screamed, my voice going hoarse.

“Voldemort gave me a mission once the pain started to subside. He tasked me of… of killing Dumbledore. I don’t want to do that, I don’t want to become a murderer. I didn’t ever want to side with that madman. Father always raved about him, talking about Voldemort as if he was a god… but he’s nothing more than a monster. I don’t like Dumbledore, I don’t like how he’s keeping useful spells illegal… but Voldemort… Voldemort is even worse.” Draco shuttered and took a deep breath. “As soon as I could I ran to my room and Floo’ed to Blaise’s home. He and Mrs. Zabini were having dinner. I fell out of their fireplace, still trembling in pain. There, soot-covered and trembling I told Blaise and Mrs. Zabini everything. Everything I’ve told you. They locked their fireplaces, blocked their house; made sure that nobody could get in. …The next day Blaise sent house-elves to get my things, and I’ve been living with him ever since. I hate him. I hate Voldemort. He turned my father into a fanatic… maybe he was always like that but he… he never was a dad to me. As sick as it sounds, Blaise is actually the closest thing I have to a dad. Could always rely on him.”

A silence fell upon them. Harry gently let go of Draco’s wrist and helped pull down his robe sleeve before leaning back into his chair, thinking. Draco waited, the seconds passing like hours as he stared at Harry’s beautiful features. The people around them continued to write and move around; unaware or uncaring that a Slytherin and a Gryffindor were sitting together.

Finally, after what seemed like a millennium for both of them, Harry looked up at Draco. He had a soft smile on his face. “Thank you… for telling me this,” he said. “I… I don’t think we can be friends but… James and Blaise are having a date at Devilish Temptation during Hogsmeade. If you want, we could head over to the Three Broomsticks together… and talk, share a drink.”

“I would love that Harry, thank you,” Draco said. Both boys smiled.

“One more thing… if there’s room… you should add this memory to your journal,” Harry said. “As for your scar… I think I’ll be happy to help. Can you promise me one thing?”

“What is it Harry?” Draco asked.

“Please don’t break me. I don’t want to be broken again… I don’t even know if I can even be fixed,” Harry admitted.

“Of course you can Harry. If I can find redemption, you can be fixed,” Draco said sincerely. “And I will never, ever, do any action that would break you Harry. I care about you too much.”

“Thank you Draco… I… thank you,” Harry sighed.

“Anytime. I’ll see you at Hogsmeade,” Draco said standing up.

“See you at Hogsmeade.”

They left at separate times. Once they were both gone, Cormac McLaggen stepped out from behind a bookcase and sat down in the same seat Draco was sitting at. He grabbed his arm at his side and looked at where Harry was sitting only moments ago. “I’m so sorry Harry,” he said to the air. “I’m sorry. …” He shook his head, his eyes shut in pain. “No—dad stop please,” he pleaded. “I’m not… I’m not an abomination. I’m not! Stop it! It hurts!” Cormac’s face fell to the table and he covered it, making it look like he was sleeping, as he tried his best to stop his tears, but failing. His body shook and tears fell. “Why can’t I be happy?”

Harry woke early on the morning of the trip, which was proving stormy, and whiled away the time until breakfast by reading his copy of Advanced Potion-Making. The more Harry pored over the book, the more he realized how much was in there, not only the handy hints and shortcuts on potions that were earning him such a glowing reputation with Slughorn, but also the imaginative little jinxes and hexes scribbled in the margins, which Harry was sure, judging by the crossings-out and revisions, that the Prince had invented himself.

Harry already attempted a few of the Prince’s self-invented spells. There had been a hex that caused toenails to grow alarmingly fast; a jinx that glued the tongue to the roof of the mouth; and, perhaps most useful of all, Muffiato, a spell that filled the ears of anyone nearby with an unidentifiable buzzing, so that lengthy conversations could be held in class without being overheard. The only person who did not find these charms amusing was Hermione, who maintained a rigidly disapproving expression throughout and refused to talk at all if Harry had used the Muffiato spell on anyone in the vicinity.

Sitting up in bed, Harry turned the book sideways so as to examine more closely the scribbled instructions for a spell that seemed to have cause the Prince some trouble. There were many crossings-out and alterations, but finally, crammed into a corner of the page, the scribble:

Levicorpus (nvbl)

While the wind and sleet pounded relentlessly on the windows, and Neville snored loudly, Harry stared at the letters in brackets. Nvbl… that had to mean “nonverbal.” Deciding to give it a go, Harry pointed his wand at nowhere in particular, gave it an upward flick and said “Levicorpus!” inside his head.

“Aaaaaaaargh!”

There was a flash of light and the room was full of voices: Everyone had woken up as James had let out a yell. Harry fell out of the bed in a panic. James was dangling upside down in midair as though an invisible hook had hoisted him up by the ankle.

“Sorry!” Harry yelled, though he was snickering as Dean and Seamus roared with laughter. “Hang on—I’ll let you down—“

He groped for the potion book and riffled through it in a panic, trying to find the right page; at last he located it and deciphered one cramped word underneath the spell: Praying that this was the counter-jinx, Harry thought Liberacorpus! with all his might.

There was another flash of light, and James fell in a heap onto his mattress.

“Sorry,” Harry repeated weakly, while Dean and Seamus continued to roar with laughter. Somehow Ron was sleeping through all of this.

“Harry,” James said in a muffled voice, “you are in so much trouble.”

By the time they had got dressed, padded themselves out with several of Mrs. Weasley’s hand-knitted sweaters and carrying cloaks, scarves, and gloves, James’s shock had subsided and he had decided that Harry’s new spell was highly amusing. After breakfast, the twins along with Ron and Hermione started to make their walk towards Hogsmeade, all of them wincing as they stepped out into the wind and sleet.

The walk into Hogsmeade was no enjoyable. Harry wrapped his scarf over his lower face; the exposed part soon felt both raw and numb. The road to the village was full of students bent double against the bitter wind. More than once Harry wondered whether they might not have had a better time in the warm common room, and when they finally reached Hogsmeade and saw that Zonko’s Joke Shop had been boarded up, Harry took it as confirmation that this trip was destined to be different. Ron pointed, with a thickly gloved hand, toward Honeydukes, which was mercifully open, and Harry, James, and Hermione staggered in his wake into the crowded shop.

“Thank God,” Ron shivered as they were enveloped by warm, toffee-scented air. “Let’s stay here all afternoon. …I’m sure Colin won’t mind.”

James m’boy!” said a booming voice from behind them.

“Oh no,” Harry muttered. The four of them turned to see Professor Slughorn, who was wearing an enormous furry hat and an overcoat with matching fur collar, clutching a large bag of crystalized pineapple, and occupying at least a quarter of the shop.

“Harry, James, that’s three of my little suppers you’ve missed now!” Slughorn said, poking them genially in the chest. “It won’t do m’boys, I’m determined to have you! Miss Granger loves them, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Hermione said helplessly, “they’re really—“

“So why don’t you two come along, James?” Slughorn demanded.

“Well, we’ve had Quidditch practice, Professor,” James said, who had indeed been scheduling practices every time Slughorn had sent them a little, violet ribbon-adorned invitation.

“Well, I certainly expect you to win your first match after all this hard work!” Slughorn said. “But a little recreation never hurts anybody. Now, how about Monday night, you can’t possibly want to practice in this weather. …”

“We have an appointment with Dumbledore,” Harry lied easily.

“Unlucky again!” Slughorn cried dramatically. “Ah, well …you can’t evade me forever boys!”

And with a regal wave, he waddled out of the shop, taking as little notice of Ron as though he had been a display of Cockroach Clusters.

“I’m looking for Colin,” Ron muttered before walking away from them. Hermione frowned and looked at James and Harry. “Now what?” she asked them, looking at the place where Ron had just been. “We can’t just leave him alone can we?”

“Well actually… I think it’s best if we let him cool down,” James said. “Besides… I kind of have a date today.”

“You do?” Harry asked, his eyes narrowing slightly.

“Yeah, and I have to get going. Ron’ll be fine, I’m sure,” James said. “See you at the castle then.”

Hermione stared flabbergasted. “Seriously? He’s seriously having a date in this weather?” she asked.

“Yeah um… Hermione…” Harry said, looking a bit sheepish.

“Oh not you too,” she exhaled.

“Yeah… I’m really sorry to leave you like this,” Harry said squinting slightly.

“Fine, fine go. I’ll just hang out with Ginny, I guess. You know, you boys been doing this a lot lately,” Hermione said. “Keeping me out of things.”

“It’s not much,” Harry said. “And it’s umm… mostly boy stuff. Anyway, bye Hermione.” Harry raced out of shop and into the sleet again. The biting wind seemed to kill the small flame inside him as he made his way towards the Three Broomsticks, where Draco was waiting.

The Hogsmeade entrance to Devilish Intentions was smartly hidden down an alleyway near Hog’s Head. There was no goblin to greet the students who enter, instead all they had to do was speak the password and the door would open up. “Freezing,” James muttered to himself as he struggled to the wooden wall that hid the door. “Friend!” he shouted at the wall and all but ran inside as it opened up. Warm air greeted him and James quickly pulled off his scarf as he entered into the international pub. “James! Over here,” Blaise smiled, waving at him from a table. He was wearing a dark-emerald sweater. James shared the smile and made his way to Blaise. “Hope the weather didn’t beat you too bad,” Blaise said. He placed his hand on James’s and swore. “You’re freezing! Let me get you something to warm you up.”

“Thanks,” James said. Blaise stood up and came back a minute later with two drinks. James just finished taking off his extra layers and placing them on the seat next to him as Blaise placed the drinks on the table. “Any colder and Harry and I would have froze out there,” James said.

Blaise chuckled. “Either of you didn’t think of using a Warming Charm?”

“No… had a bit of a rude awakening,” James said.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, Harry wanted to try out a new spell only thing he tried it out on me,” James said smiling. “Yanked me into the air by my ankle! It was hilarious! Well after the fact… during so I was mostly angry at Harry for waking me up.”

“So what did you do?” Blaise smirked. James leaned forward. “Simple, he’s wearing one of the special clothes I’ve brought for him. It’s underneath all the layers of clothing he has, but it’s still there.”

Blaise laughed. “You, are evil,” he laughed pointing at James who just grinned knowingly and nodded.

“I have a great sense of clothing for Harry, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” James said.

Blaise laughed and shook his head. “Man I miss this,” he sighed.

“Me too,” James said. He picked up his drink and took a long sip from it, the liquid heating him up immensely. “Oh, we have to thank you. For what you told Harry about his heat thing,” James said. “He’s not shifting uncomfortably anymore so I’m guessing he’s doing it and it’s working.”

“I had a feeling,” Blaise said. “So he doing it while you’re in the bed or is he actually staying in his own?”

“His own,” James chuckled. “Not that I wouldn’t mind seeing him doing it… I just want to make sure that this heat isn’t killing him.”

“What do you mean? The heat thing is purely sexual; not dangerous at all… at least not self-inflicting dangerous,” Blaise said.

“Yeah but… guys like McLaggen are always there to take advantage of a boy like Harry,” James said. “This is the first time we’ve been separated since his heat thing actually started; I’m just worried about him, you know?”

“Of course I know, he’s our boy,” Blaise said. “It’s only natural that you worry about him. I do too.”

James laughed. “You sound like Harry’s your kid or something.”

“Guess that means he’ll have to call me ‘Daddy,’” Blaise smirked.

“As if! If he’s calling one of us ‘Daddy’ it’ll be me!” James said.

“So what does that leave me with? Will you call me ‘Daddy,’ James?” Blaise asked, leaning towards the Potter, who blushed. “I’ll take that as a yes,” Blaise smirked. “I’ll be a very good Daddy for you James, don’t worry.” Blaise snickered.

James shook his head and sighed. “We’re on a date and we’re talking about who’s going to be Harry’s Daddy?” he asked.

“Yeah, why not?” Blaise asked. “We care for him a lot obviously. It’s like one weird happy family. The two Daddies and their son.”

James gave a laugh. “Just don’t go touching our son,” he said looking up at Blaise with an amused look. “He has to be innocent forever.”

“Well with my instruction with his heat, I doubt he’s innocent anymore,” Blaise said.

“Then I’ll rephrase… Harry will be never be touched by anyone who isn’t me. He is my brother… only I can love him the way he needs to be loved. Anyone else would just break his heart,” James said.

Blaise frowned at that but said nothing. He took a sip from his drink and studied his date’s body for a moment. “How about you?” he asked.

“Me?”

“Yeah, are you allowed to be touched by someone who isn’t Harry?” Blaise asked.

James’s cheeks flared red again. “I…I uh… yes?”

Blaise smirked. He reached for James’s hand and held it. “Then why can’t Harry? If you’re allowed to be touched… why can’t Harry?” Blaise breathed. He pulled James’s hand close to him so that there was barely an inch between his lips and the hand. James gulped, his eyes staring at Blaise’s lips.

“I… he….”

“Well James?” Blaise breathed, his warm breath hitting James’s cold hand. James just stuttered. Blaise smirked and lightly kissed James’s hand. “Can Harry touch someone else?”

“Yes,” James said meekly.

“Good,” Blaise said. He didn’t let go of James’s hand but instead pulled on it, forcing the muscular teen to stand and move to sit next to him. “I like this better, don’t you?”

James nodded and smiled shyly. “I do,” he said.

“Good, because between you and me… I’m not letting go,” Blaise said, lifting their held hands to eye-level and kissing it.

“Yeah…” James said, smiling. Deep inside him he felt a tiny spark, like the strike of a match, but figured it to a mixture of the warm drink and nerves.

“Oh! I have something great to tell you,” Blaise said. “It’s about McLaggen.”

The air around them changed. James sat straighter and stared at Blaise, any confusion or lust in their eyes gone and replaced by seriousness. “What is it?”

“I’ve wrote a letter to my mother some weeks ago, asking her to look into the McLaggen family,” Blaise said. “Specifically, looking for something we can used to keep Cormac away from Harry. This morning, I’ve gotten a letter from my mother.”

“What did it say?” James asked.

“She befriended Cormac’s mother. She’s already gathered plenty of information that Cormac would never want people to know; things that would go against his… how do you put it… gallant personality,” Blaise said. “She’ll bring me the full details on Wednesday, she feels that Cormac’s mother is hiding something that we desperately need.”

“That’s amazing! How can your mother do that?” James asked.

“Nobody can say no to a Zabini,” Blaise smirked. “We have a way of charming people. I mean, look at where you are.”

James looked down and blushed when he saw that he and Blaise were sitting directly next to each other. The match inside him grew a little more. When did this happened?

“So what are you going to do, once you have the information?” James asked.

“Blackmail him of course,” Blaise shrugged. “If he tries to even talk to Harry, we’ll let the information slip and everyone in Hogwarts will know.”

“Good,” James said.

“Good?” Blaise chuckled, raising an eyebrow. “And here I thought you would be condemning what Draco and I are doing.”

“You know my brother and I,” James said. “You know what we dabble with. We’re not exactly really Light wizards, are we?” He smirked.

“No, no you guys certainly aren’t,” Blaise chuckled. “But that’s what I love about you two. You and Harry has this incredible thirst for magic… and are both incredibly good at it! It’s amazing.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” James said. “Harry’s the one who’s good at magic, not me.”

“Excuse me? Have you seen your potion-making? And how about dueling? You’re the best at both James! You even make your own potions! Like come on!” Blaise praised, kissing James’s hand again.

“I guess… but Harry—“

“James, shut up about Harry for a moment, and listen to me,” Blaise commanded, his voice sparking the light in James even more. “You are amazing. I mean look at your body, your muscles—every inch of perfection that showcases your time and dedication to a cause. Your potion-making skills is beyond measure, you always appear relaxed no matter how stressful or complex the potion is, and you sing while doing it! Who else can say that? Harry might be amazing at Charms and Transfiguration, but Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts are your strong-points. You fought Voldemort and survived… twice! You taught everyone last year at that D.A. and everyone, including Harry, looks up to you for guidance. You are loving, caring, strong, amazing… so many things James. You are everything that I want in a person and more. I am just lucky enough to be your friend. … Harry is great, but he is nothing without you. Just like how I am nothing without you as well.”

“Blaise…”

“What I’m trying to say here is… James Sirius Potter, I love you. And I want you to be my boyfriend. Will you?”

James stared at Blaise. “You already asked…”

“But that was just for one date. This time, I am asking for real,” Blaise said. “I know that this isn’t something you’re supposed to ask on the first date, but with our history—“

“Yes,” James interrupted. “I’ll be your boyfriend.”

Blaise’s smile couldn’t get bigger. Without warning he jumped onto James and kissed him deeply. James gave a noise of shock but quickly melt into the kiss, wrapping his arms around the skinny, tall Slytherin as Blaise took full control of the kiss. They both found themselves moaning, the match-flame inside James burned and grew to a roaring fire that stretched throughout his body. He felt hot, his forehead sweating and the only relief form this sudden flame was Blaise’s lips. He continued to kiss, groaning and opening up to Blaise as the taller boy straddled on his lap and thrust his tongue into James’s mouth. Their tongues met and battled for dominance, but the more Blaise controlled James, the more the flames burned and he felt pleasure. He opened his mouth and moaned, “Hot, hot,” against Blaise’s mouth.

Blaise moved away, still sitting on James’s lap. “What?”

“Hot—feel hot,” James groaned. He gasped with realization. “Harry—he felt the same—we both have it!”

“The heat? You have the heat as well?” Blaise asked.

James nodded. Blaise chuckled and caressed James’s cheek, his fingers like soothing ice cubes drifting across his flaming face. “Then we’ll just have to kiss it away for now, don’t we?”

“Yeah… kiss,” James said before pulling Blaise in for another snog session.

Ron found Colin with his brother. The two Creevey brothers were in Gladrags Wizardwear, a clothing shop. Ron spotted them through the window and stomped inside, shivering from the cold. “Ron!” Colin smiled as soon as the door closed and ran past racks of robes and other clothes to kiss his boyfriend. Ron instinctively picked Colin up with one arm and held him to him like a big baby (it was helpful that Colin was on the small side).

“Hey baby,” Ron said, kissing him. Colin wrapped his arms around Ron’s neck and looked at him, frowning slightly. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing, just… I don’t know, frustrated,” Ron said.

“Well, I know how to fix that,” Colin smirked and kissed Ron again. Dennis walked up to them and pretended to look grossed-out, making fake gagging sounds.

Ron chuckled and swooped the tiny Creevey up with his other arm, holding them both to his chest. “Hello Dennis,” Ron smirked.

“Put me down Ron! I’m not your baby!” Dennis protested.

“You sure? There’s enough of me for both my boys,” Ron smirked.

“Eww gross!” Dennis gaged but blushed. Ron laughed and let Dennis to the floor, but still held onto Colin. For some reason the two boys could always make him laugh.

“So boys, what are you guys doing in here?” he asked.

“Colin needs new socks and we thought it would be great to buy our parents some robes of their own,” Dennis said.

“New socks huh?” Ron said looking around. “What type of shop is this? I never even noticed this place before.”

“It’s a quirky clothes shop,” Colin said. “But I’m sure there’s some good clothes here!”

“Speaking of clothes… I think there are some things we should talk about Colin… by ourselves,” Ron said, a suddenly lewd expression on his face. “Unless your brother’s ready to admit he loves me too.”

“No.”

“Over there,” Colin pointed to a corner of the shop that was empty. Ron carried him there and found a small stool which he sat on. Colin moved so the was sitting comfortably on Ron’s lap. “What do you want to talk about?”

Ron’s face got extremely red. “Remember when we started dating, and I told you I uhh have some… fetishes?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Colin said.

“I want to talk with you about one of them. …I want to see if you uhh want to start it,” Ron said.

“Well, I have to know what it is first,” Colin chuckled.

“Okay. But don’t judge me, okay?” Ron said. Colin nodded. “I love Dom/sub play,” Ron said. “I love the dynamic, the feeling… and fantasized every day about being in a relationship like that. Particularly an old friend of mine… let’s call him ‘Snuffles’ … opened me up to this thing called umm ‘Puppy play. Nothing will change! It’s just that at times I’ll ask you to act like a puppy, my puppy, and you’ll um… do everything I’ll ask you to do—“

“Sounds fun!” Colin smiled. Ron stared at him shocked. “I like Dom/sub play as well… and yeah, I’ll be your puppy… and your baby,” Colin smiled like a little kid in a candy shop. “Does that mean I’ll have to call you ‘Sir’? Or how about ‘Master’ since you’ll be my owner? Oh! How about ‘Daddy’ since people who own pets seem themselves at parents?”

“I—uhh… we can talk about that later,” Ron said, his voice unusually high. “For now… Ron’s fine.”

“Okay Ron,” Colin said, grabbing his Ron’s shirt and licking his cheek. “Your puppy is ready to listen.”

“This will involve training, you know, lots of it.”

“I’m ready.”

“I’m going to ask you to do a lot of things,” Ron said. “Wear some things you’ll might not be comfortable with.”

“Did you see where we are?” Colin chuckled. “I’m ready for anything you throw at me.”

“Good,” Ron said, his voice deepening. “Kiss me then. Like a puppy.”

Colin leaped at Ron’s face and started licking everywhere he could like an excitable puppy. Then, once his face was spit-soaked, Ron grabbed Colin’s hair roughly and pulled him into a dominating kiss.

“I think this will be good for us Pup,” Ron said, his voice practically growling.

Colin smiled and barked playfully before they both laughed.

Harry and Draco were sitting in a booth in the Three Broomsticks. They were sitting on opposite sides of the table, each holding a butterbeer and sitting in silence. They didn’t know how to even begin; Harry was too busy worried about James and Draco seemed too nervous to even talk. They looked at each other, stared for a moment, before looking back down at their drinks. Harry’s heat was starting to irritate him. He could feel a small fire burning in his pelvis, threatening to dance either to his rear or front. He shifted uncomfortably and Draco looked up.

“How is… is your heat bothering you?” Draco asked.

“Yeah,” Harry said. “It’s getting worse.”

Silence.

“Thank you for… agreeing to meet somewhere public,” Harry said. “I’m sorry if this inconvenience you.”

“Of course, it doesn’t,” Draco said. “I told you that I don’t mind at all. McLaggen did some horrible things to you… it’ll take time to build up that trust.”

“Yeah… it will,” Harry said.

“But maybe this will make you feel better,” Draco said. “I’ve lettered the Weasley twins, the ones who owns that joke shop, and ordered pranks, jinxes, anything that they could send. All for using on Cormac.”

“You did?” Harry asked.

“Yeah, it’s a huge order too. So whenever the idiot thinks of even stepping close to you, he’ll be peppered with enough dungbombs that he’ll need a shower for a weak to get the smell off,” Draco grinned.

Harry gave small laugh. “That’ll… be nice to see. I think I’ll have to be there, so I can put it in my journal.”

Draco laughed and smiled, “I’ll have to put it in my journal as well.”

“What did the twins say?” Harry asked.

“I don’t know, I have no response yet. But I’ll tell you the moment it comes,” Draco said. Harry nodded. “So… Blaise tells me that you and James keep skipping Slughorn’s parties,” he said.

“Yeah, thank god,” Harry muttered. “Ron is angry that he pays attention to us and completely ignores him. Poor guy.”

“You should have seen the way he talked to me on our first lesson,” Draco said. “I mentioned my grandfather and he completely blew me off!”

“Guess he heard about your father… sorry,” Harry said.

“No, it’s okay, he’s a stain. Don’t worry about him. Or my mother,” Draco said. He looked at his arm and sighed. “As soon as this thing’s off I don’t care who wins the war. In fact they could kill each other and we’ll lose nothing.”

“Draco!” Harry gasped. “You can’t mean that!”

“I do,” Draco said. “I hate Voldemort. But I don’t like Dumbledore either. The spells Blaise told me you and James practice… the spells that help people like us… they’re all illegal, not that Voldemort cares, but they’re still all illegal thanks to Dumbledore and his lot.”

“But still you have to admit that one is better than the other,” Harry said.

“Maybe, but that’s why I’m hoping that they both, you know, just kill each other, have the war end in a sort of draw,” Draco said. “That way we can just pick up the pieces and continue living our lives. Look outside Harry, that is Dumbledore’s fault just as much as Voldemort’s.” Draco pointed to the window. Harry looked to see the boarded-up shops and empty streets of Hogsmeade.

“I guess you’re right… and if Dumbledore learns certain things about James and I he would be very angry,” Harry said.

“Like what?” Draco asked. “If you don’t mind me asking,” he added on.

“Like I still talk to snakes, I’m still using my gift as a Parselmouth,” Harry said. “We’re both magically more powerful than Dumbledore knows—he doesn’t know about my journals or James’s potions.”

“James makes potions?” Draco asked.

“On his off time,” Harry said. “He hadn’t really had the time to do so lately.”

“Too busy with school?” Draco asked.

“And Dumbledore’s lessons,” Harry said.

“Wait, Dumbledore is giving you lessons?” Draco asked.

“Yeah, we’re going over Voldemort’s past,” Harry nodded. “One second,” He pulled out his wand and muttered, “Muffiato.” He pocketed his wand. “There, nobody will hear us now. Dumbledore’s making us view memories of Voldemort’s past. I don’t know why… it makes no sense to me yet. I’m… I’m not a fighter, James is. James was always the fighter between the two of us. He fights and I heal his wounds. That’s how it always was.”

“You’re scared that you might lose him, aren’t you? Because of the war,” Draco said.

“Yeah,” Harry nodded. “If it wasn’t for that stupid prophecy… none of this would be happening.”

“Prophecy?” Draco asked. “I’ve read about that in the Daily Prophet. You mean it’s real?”

“Yeah… it is,” Harry said sadly. “Lately I’ve been looking at it, trying to find some way to save my brother.”

“Looking at it?” Draco asked.

Harry pulled out a journal from his cloak and turned towards the end of the book. “This is from last year,” he said. He gently pushed the journal closer to Draco. Draco looked at the book. A couple of pages after the one Harry opened to was completely soaked and wrinkled. Curiosity got the better of Draco and he turned to it.

“That’s the page Sirius dies on,” Harry said. “I kept crying on it…”

“Sorry,” Draco muttered. He turned back to the page Harry showed him and looked down. Harry tapped the page and the memory began to play. A blue crystal ball filled with smoke appeared, and an unearthly voice began to speak:

"The ones with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark them as his equal, but they will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives... The ones with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies..."

“It’s about us,” Harry said. “At least, that is what Dumbledore told us…”

“This is bad,” Draco frowned. “Dumbledore is certain that this prophecy is true?”

“Yeah.”

“Then he’ll make sure that you two fight,” Draco said, “this is horrible Harry! There has to be some way to get you two out of it!”

“I don’t know how,” Harry said, his voice quickening and growing frantic. “I’ve thought about this so much, I’ve listened to this stupid prophecy so much—I just can’t think of anything! But I have to think of something, I have to get James out of this stupid prophecy because if I don’t he’ll die! And if he dies I can’t live with myself, I—“

“Harry!” Draco yelled. He grabbed both of Harry’s arms. The heat inside Harry cooled instantly to the touch. “Harry… calm down… calm down, Harry,” Draco soothed. “You’re not alone. We’ll help each other, we’ll figure this out together, don’t worry. We’ll get rid of my Dark Mark and we’ll get both of you out of this stupid prophecy. You’ll see.”

“Thanks,” Harry sniffled. “Thank you Draco… I… I’m sorry that I’m so weak right now.”

“Don’t be sorry, you’re not showing weakness, you’re showing concern, love. Love is not a weakness Harry, the absence of love is,” Draco said. Harry smiled softly. He looked at Draco and asked, “Can you move… so that you’re next to me?”

“Yeah, of course,” Draco said. Still holding Harry’s arms, he moved down the booth until he was sitting next to him. Harry relaxed into him, resting on his chest, and crossing Draco’s arms around him.

“This will sound stupid… but I can only really relax if I’m being held by someone with muscles,” Harry admitted.

“It’s not stupid, I think it’s cute,” Draco said softly. Enjoying the weight of Harry on him. “You stay here as long as you want, okay?”

“Thanks…”

“So, I’ve heard you’ve been practicing Quidditch a lot, want to tell me more about that?” Draco asked, changing the subject. Harry was grateful for it and began telling Draco about his practice sessions and how strong his team is this year. The rest of their trip was spent on safe topics, Harry stayed resting on Draco’s chest during the entirely of their date. When it was time to go Harry gave Draco a chaste kiss on his cheek and thanked him for everything before leaving.

Draco left after Harry, and caught up with Blaise. When they returned to the Slytherin Dormitory, there was a letter waiting for them.

Malfoy, Zabini,

Sorry for the wait, we had to make sure that you two were actually serious about your intentions and what happened to Harry. Here’s your package plus a few extra, give this McLaggen boy a living hell and don’t forget to come back to Weasley Wizard Wheezes for your wizarding needs.

Fred and George Weasley

P.S. James loves chocolate and Harry is very ticklish.

Chapter Text

Chapter 11

Cormac McLaggen finished his final class for the day and yawned. He felt very tired after all his classes. The corridor was full of students as he walked out. His shoulder bumped against the others’ shoulders as he returned to Gryffindor Tower. He felt hands on him and before he knew it, an awful smell erupted around him. A small explosion sound filled the corridor and all the students jumped away from McLaggen as he was hit with several Dungbombs. “Gross!” Cormac groaned as the other students held their noses tight with their fingers and ran away from him. Ignoring their cries of disgust, McLaggen ran the rest of the way to Gryffindor Tower and practically shouted the password to the Fat Lady. The portrait swung open and McLaggen ran up to his dormitory, ripped his clothing off, and ran into a shower.

The smell was nauseating. He stood there frantically rubbing his body with scented soap and shampoo trying to get rid of the smell. His feet began to ache from standing so long in the shower, his fingers started to wrinkle under the water and his skin felt raw. He was in the shower for nearly two hours getting the smell off of his body. When he finally stepped out, the smell assaulted him again as he forgot about his clothes. Holding his breath he knocked everything out of his pants and robes before throwing them into a laundry basket. He took his wand and did every freshening spell he knew as well as opening the many windows so the smell could wafer out. In his frantic mood to get rid of the spell, he didn’t notice a letter that was stuffed in his pants’ pocket. When he did notice it, which was after a half an hour of cleaning the air, he opened it and frowned in anger. It was a short note reading:

This is only the beginning. We know everything.

Blaise looked for Draco the moment the letter arrived. It was a week after their dates with the Potter twins and neither of them have talked with either boy since. It was the afternoon and Blaise found Draco leaving his final class. “It’s here!” Blaise smiled.

“Come on,” Draco said. They made their way back to the Slytherin common room. There was a table in the corner where they wouldn’t be interrupted.

“It feels like a long letter,” Blaise said.

“Your mother must have gotten plenty of information on Cormac then,” Draco smirked.

“Of course she did,” Blaise said. “My mother never disappoints. She always looks out for me, and since Harry is my friend, and brother to my boyfriend, she is only more than glad to help.”

They shared a smile as Blaise unrolled his mother’s letter, which was longer than any essay either boys have ever written.

Blaise,

After consideration of what you asked I’ve decided to do what you asked. You, however, owe me. This Cormac McLaggen boy has a nasty history, a history that I am glad you never had to deal with. That said use this information well. You are almost of age and so I expect you to choose the correct decision of what you are going to do with this information. You’re almost a man now, so I will not be telling you how to live your life.

I’ve met Cormac’s mother, who is named Eileen, out shopping for clothes in Diagon Alley. She is a pretty woman, fairly tall with wiry hair and a slightly curvy figure. Naturally she is dull compared to me, but alone she can get a man’s attention for a second or two. There was a set of dress robes that we both wanted. We talked a bit, exchanged names, and soon we both started talking about our sons. She seemed a bit sheltered about what she told me, keeping to safe subjects like how he is doing in Hogwarts and one or two of his outings with his uncle. We continued to talk after we exited the shop and had tea together. We got along swimmingly, she seemed like a nice girl, and so I’ve asked her to meet again which she accepted. We met again for tea two days later and talked some more. I could tell from her body language that her son and husband had a strained relationship as she barely talked about them together. It was always either separate or, if they are together, they are with Cormac’s uncle.

It took several visits to get her to open up about Cormac’s relationship with his father. To put it simply it is very strained, though when I learned the true events, it is sickening. Eileen started dropping hints early on, it seemed that she was desperate to tell anyone what happened. The first thing I’ve learned was that Cormac’s father, Julio McLaggen, had a temper. She admitted that never a day went by without hearing Julio yelling, be it at her, at Cormac, or at anyone who sets off his extremely short temper. I asked her immediately if Julio was physical, and Eileen hesitated before saying that Julio has never hit her, suggesting that he only hits Cormac. This was proven true a couple of weeks later when Eileen confessed to me the last time she saw Julio hit his son, it was over a dinner argument and he punched Cormac in the stomach. The argument was over some article of clothing that Cormac wears but his mother and father didn’t know about. I had her over tea at our home one day, this was after knowing each other for a month and visiting each other frequently. We’ve became surprisingly fast friends and poor Eli confessed to me that through everything she wanted her son to be happy, a wish that goes against everything Julio stands for.

Before I tell you about the truly horrid things that went down in the McLaggen household, let me first tell you more about Mr. McLaggen whom I’ve met on several occasions. The first of which was when Eli invited me to dinner with them and Julio’s brother’s Tiberius McLaggen, I am sure you know much about him Blaise. Their home was quite lovely. It was on the small side but still very eloquent. They had a couple of house-elves who served us our food before disappearing. I have arrived early and conversed with Eli and Tiberius until Julio McLaggen came home from work with the Ministry. He was a big man. Tall and broad with wiry hair and a cleft chin and broken nose. His face had a hint of red from it, he joked that it was from being angry all the time. Looking at the pictures I could easily tell that while their son Cormac gotten his father’s largeness and hair, he inherited his mother’s beauty. Personality wise, however, I cannot say but only guess (You know how I am at asserting men’s personality and wealth, my dear). Dinner was quant. The food was good, the wine was better, and the company was interesting. Eli and I talked with no trouble, it was like one of our tea dates only with wine and some firewhiskey here and there as well as Tiberius’s interjection every now and then. Julio was a quiet man at most times, he just sat and watched, his eyes shifting between his wife and older brother before settling on me. Myself being a good guest said, “I’ve heard that you work in the Ministry Julio, what type of work do you do?”

“Honest work,” Julio said, his voice was deep but I could see his eyes shifting to his brother as he said that. “Nothing fancy like some lot.”

“Come now brother it isn’t bad,” Tiberius chuckled. “Not all of us can grow to be best friends with the Minister by accident. How should I know that they’ve chose Rufus?”

“You don’t,” Julio said shortly.

Sensing the hostility, mostly on Julio’s part, between them I turned the conversation to our sons. “I heard that your son is trying out for the Quidditch team for Gryffindor,” I said.

“He should be on there already, but yes,” Julio said. “Going to be a Keeper like me.”

“But I thought their captain was already Keeper, at least according to what my son has told me,” I’ve said.

Julio gave a loud snort. “That Potter boy? They only gave him the position because of his fame. My son is a better Keeper, I’ve made sure of it. Night and day we were out there practicing. I’ve thrown quaffles as hard as I could and he had to block them all.”

“Please don’t remind me of those days,” Eli said cautiously.

“Broken bones make men tough,” Julio said. “Makes them ready to live with their wives. What about your son, Zabini? I heard that he isn’t on the Quidditch team.”

“He isn’t, and please call me Delilah,” I said. “Blaise has interests that stray from playing Quidditch, though he loves watching them.”

“Really? What interest does he have?” Tiberius asked me.

“For one,” I said, “He is actually a skilled pianist. Though, that is natural since he takes after me in many aspects.”

“He plays music,” Julio grunted.

“Yes he does,” I said. “Though he is also an accomplished potioneer. He recently got an ‘Outstanding’ on his Potions O.W.L.s.”

“Congratulations, I’m sure you’re very proud,” Tiberius said.

“I am,” I said. “I practically raised him myself.”

“Wonder why,” Julio grunted. “No offense Delilah, but I’ve heard the stories.”

“Of my seven husbands?” I chuckled. “And their disappearances?”

“Exactly.”

“Well, I can reinsure you that I am not a murderer,” I laughed politely, taking another sip of my wine. My company laughed politely along with me. “I’ve had seven husbands, and most of them died on me. The first by a surprise case of dragon-pox, a few by old age, and one by accidently eating moonseed. It is pure bad luck that follows me, nothing more.”

“Well, Delilah, you have my sympathies,” Tiberius said, raising a glass. “I am sure that all of us here have suffered misfortunes.”

“Some more than others,” Julio grumbled under his breath, but the other two ignored him.

“Anyway Delilah, you have to tell me since you’ve hinted at it last time, but is your son dating anyone?” Eli leaned forward.

“Yes, does he have a girlfriend?” Julio asked.

“A girlfriend? No, my son doesn’t like girls that way,” I said. “Actually, he set his sights on one of the Potter twins; the Quidditch captain who’s Keeper.”

“So your son’s a poof. …That’s nice,” Julio said sarcastically.

“Julio!”

“I said nothing wrong,” Julio said. “Just repeating what she told us. Her son’s a faggot like ours.”

“Julio really to use such language—“

“It is okay Tiberius, I am sure he means no insult,” I smiled. “Julio, is there something wrong with my son liking boys?”

“Something wrong? I find the whole thing down-right disgusting,” Julio said. “They contribute nothing to our community at all! We’re already small enough, we don’t need their disgusting fairy ways making us shrink even more! No offense to your son, but homosexuals are disgusting abominations that should be locked in Azkaban. That or spelled to be the correct way. And if that doesn’t word, they could always use the heavy hand.” He waved his enormously gorilla-like hand for emphasis. “That’s why our son’s not a fag anymore. Hard hitting! Watch. Your son will just bring another fairy to your home and my son will bring in a beautiful wife. That’s what I’ve drilled into him, you see, wives! He has to get one.”

“I see…” I said, my dinner already spoiled. I looked down at it, but instead just took another sip of wine. Eli and Tiberius looked extremely nervous, as they should be. The man just insulted my son as well as their guest. Though by the way his head stated to turn red, I can safely guess that he either didn’t notice or cared. “Your feelings are yours, Julio, as much as my feelings are mine,” I said. “If my son does indeed bring home a boy that he said he wants to marry, I will be all the happy for him. As for the… procreation problem you’ve brought up, there are potions to fix that I believe, or at least there are potions in development, I only heard about it in passing, so really in the case of procreation there is virtually no difference. But, in order not to spoil dinner, can we agree to drop this talk of sexuality?”

“Fine. Not to spoil dinner,” Julio said. His face was like a ruby now, a gorilla-faced ruby that glared at me with the intensity of the sun. I must commend Eli for her patience and forgiveness; this man would not last a single hour as my husband.

After this rather awkward conversation, Tiberius began telling us about his outings with the Minister. They were very enjoyable, but not as much as dear Julio’s expressions. He did not laugh with myself and Eli, no he looked downright furious, a silent rage building inside him that only grew and grew with each bout of laughter from the three of us. It was at that time that I realized that Julio McLaggen, aside of suffering from a short temper, also seemed to have an inferiority complex with his brother. It makes sense. After all, his brother is a very successful and influential man who has a close relationship with the Minister of Magic; while Julio is… well… to use his words, an honest worker. We’ve retired to their drawing room after dinner where I’ve had a rather weak whiskey (thought Julio swore it was the strongest money could buy) and conversation inevitably turned back to our sons.

Julio seemed to have drank a bit too much this night (he kept having a drink whenever he felt rather inferior to his brother while Tiberius was telling us his adventures). His face was redder than when I first met the man, he swayed a bit as he walked, and when he talked there was a very slight slur of words. “I wanna talk about your son again,” He said. “Blaise, right?”

“Correct,” I said.

“You sure that you can’t find him a nice girl? From your picture, he seems like a very good-looking boy,” he said (I’ve showed them the picture from that gala we’ve went to during the summer). “I’m sure the girls are all over him. Why can’t he just pick one of those?”

“I’ve raised my son to be a respectable man who choose very carefully,” I’ve said.

“Funny, coming from you,” he joked.

I gave him a small, tight smile. “I can assure you that I’ve felt for each of my husbands. I am a woman followed by tragedy when it comes to love.”

“Tragedy that graces you with beautiful looks, Delilah,” Tiberius flirted. I smiled nicely at him.

“Still… it has to be annoying, right? Knowing you’ll never really get a girl in your family, unless the fairy acts like one,” Julio said.

I’ve looked at Eli to see that she was just nursing her glass, keeping tight-lipped. It seems his drunken muses are a common trope in the household. Tiberius, bless his soul, tried to help. “Hey now, I’m sure that you don’t mean it that way Julio,” he said.

“I said nothing wrong,” Julio insisted. “If her son is determined to be a poof, might as well bring a girly-looking fairy home. Not that our son’s going to do that. I’ve told him to bring home a wife.”

“Julio…” Eli began before stopping herself.

The feeling in the room was disastrous. It was as if Eli and Tiberius were walking on eggshells not to cause Julio to yell. I’ve looked outside and seen that it was quite late. I stood up and said, “It has been a very eventful night. Thank you very much Eli and Julio to invite me to your home. Tiberius, it was wonderful to meet you.”

“We must meet again Delilah,” Tiberius said standing. “Perhaps I could introduce you to Rufus? I am sure that he would love to meet a woman like you.”

I laughed and said, “Me meeting the Minister? I am just a humble single-mother, Tiberius, but I will hold you on meeting up on a later date. Eli, I will see you tomorrow at the café. Goodnight everyone.”

As soon as I closed the door behind me the yelling began. It was Julio, and he was yelling, and swearing, quite loudly at his wife. I tried my best to walk away normally and when I’ve returned home it was not soon enough. Eli and I met for tea the next day and it was then that she told me everything involving Julio and Cormac. She was crying the entire way, it was a hard sight, seeing her cry like that. Such a small and fragile-looking woman who looked lost and trapped.

“I love him Delilah, I can’t leave him I love him. But that is not the man I married,” she tearfully confessed. “When we were dating he was kind, he was sweet, he and Tiberius got along—I don’t know what changed.”

I summoned a tissue-box and gave it to her. She blew her nose too loudly and sniffled. “He hates our son,” she said. “He and Cormac will protest otherwise but I know that Julio hates him. He hates him for having a close relationship with Tiberius, and he hates him for being gay. Julio’s an old-fashioned type of man. He believes that ‘men should be men and women should be woman.’ Obviously, in his eyes, homosexuals go against this. When Cormac was born, Julio had this long plan for him. He would grow to be a strong man like him, he would bring home a wife on his last year at Hogwarts and be the successful breadwinner for the family while the wife stays home. Cormac was raised believing this. I had no job at the time, and I still don’t, so it was hard for me to prove him otherwise. I am so thankful that Tiberius swooped the boy and showed him the outside world enough time that the idea didn’t stay in his head. But Julio kept insisting. Cormac’s going to bring home a girlfriend on his final year at Hogwarts, and that girl is going to become his wife.

“When Cormac came out when he was fourteen… neither of us slept. Julio didn’t yell at Cormac, he didn’t scream or shot. He just stared at him and said ‘My son isn’t a filthy abomination. You’re going to bring home a wife in your final year.’ That was the only time I yelled at Julio. I yelled and I screamed at him as Cormac cried. But Julio was having none of that. He… he smacked Cormac’s head and said, ‘My son isn’t going to be an abomination. Man up.’ Those Quidditch practices he gave Cormac? Julio was throwing the ball too roughly, too fast for Cormac. He always did. He broke Cormac’s arms and legs that way, on separate occasions. As he grew older I saw that my son was… he wasn’t acting the way he is. He tried to show me confidence, tried to be the man Julio wanted him to be, but I could see through him. No my son was hurting, and I can’t do anything about it. I mean I couldn’t divorce Julio! I still love him, and what would divorcing Julio do to Tiberius’s job? He’s been our saving grace this entire time! Sometimes… sometimes I think I’ve married the wrong McLaggen. He kept hitting Cormac, hurting my son whenever he suspected his ‘fairyness’ was showing. When I found Cormac’s shirts that he was hiding, I guessed that that was his way of rebelling against Julio, his way of… his way of showing Julio that he isn’t going to follow him. I tried to hide them the best I could, but Julio found them and… he punched Cormac until his entire chest was black and blue.”

She was crying openly by now, she kept reaching for tissue after tissue to dry her eyes only to rewet them with more tears.

“I’m a failure of a mother! I just know it! He—he was hurting, is hurting and—and I did nothing!”

“There, there, this is not your fault,” I said.

“Not my fault? My son is broken! He is obsessed to find a wife or else Julio will—oh god! You should have seen him the night before Hogwarts started. He was trembling and crying in his room about finding a wife. I should have stopped it but I didn’t, it’s my fault as much as Julio’s!” she yelled out.

Not knowing what to do I just leaned forward and held her hand as she cried. I must admit that I was horrid to find out how Julio treated his son, but after meeting the man I was not surprised. He’s brash, violent, temperamental, and extremely old-fashioned. His anger seemed to be on a hair-trigger and any mention of his son not doing what he wanted sets it off. I comforted Eli and reinsured her that Cormac’s upbringing was not her fault, and that it could have been a lot worse if it wasn’t for Tiberius. When she finished crying, which took some time, she looked at me and whispered, “Everything my son does is for Julio. I’m scared that he doesn’t have any ambitions of his own.”

“I am sure that he does,” I said. “For one, doesn’t he have that collection of transparent shirts?”

“Those are more for rebelling against Julio,” Eli said. “I’m talking about the future. His dreams; his aspirations. All of them were Julio’s… and mine. I don’t know if Cormac has any of his own. I just want the best for my son but… I don’t know what that is.”

“Neither do any parent,” I said. “It is not the parent’s job to tell the child what to do in the future, but just to guide them and hope that they find their way.” I hope that you remember this Blaise, for it is true.

“But Cormac tells us nothing,” Eli said. “He’s… everything he likes he hides form us. I don’t even know how to talk to him anymore.”

“I am sure that time will fix this Eli,” I said.

“I just don’t want to lose him Delilah,” Eli said. I comforted her again and she thanked me for listening to her woes.

As I said, I’ve met with Julio only a couple of times after meeting him for dinner. Once was at a recital the Ministry held that doubled as another warning sessions against Death Eaters.

Tiberius invited me and the four of us shared a table with the Minister himself and the Auror Kingsley Shaklebolt. Julio said nothing to me, but from his sharp looks I could tell that he still held a great dislike for me. When I talked about you and your potential love life with the older Potter twin, everyone was impressed (especially the Minister) but Julio just glared daggers at me and muttered something under his breath that nobody but I noticed. I’ve tried to gain some more information about Cormac from the Minister and Tiberius, hopefully something that might hint at the awful things Eli confessed to me, but it seems that they’ve hid it well. The abuse was a family matter, so it stayed in the family.

Tiberius gotten a letter from Cormac, which infuriated Julio, he shown me this when we were alone at the table. It was about Cormac’s encounter with Harry Potter. He first stated that he acted confidently in front of his friends, but the rest of the letter must stay between them. Cormac feels complete regret. He wanted to keep things slow, they were to just try on clothes during their first date (those transparent clothing which somehow holds a sexual appeal. You must explain those to me this Christmas when you and Draco come home). But quite quickly he found out that Harry could get into heats and that he accidently went too far too fast. “Stupid teenagers doing stupid things,” Tiberius sighed, and frankly I agree with him. You’ve read the book I’ve gave you about heats and the side effects it has on men who activates them, accidently or not. Cormac’s letter was nothing but regret and worriment. Worry about what would happen if Julio finds out, and regret that he ruined all his changes with a boy he seemed to have a serious crush on. The letter made me pine for Cormac and wanted to help the poor boy get out of this situation, but now I am being bias, am I? But I am sorry to say Blaise, that this is the truth you are dealing with.

Cormac McLaggen is a product of child abuse based on sexuality and interests. His disastrous first date with Harry Potter was just that, a disastrous date. He accidently set off the boy’s heat (which I am both impressed and surprised to see that Harry is one of those. They are extremely rare Blaise, and must be handle with caution unless the heat entraps you. That is, of course, if the older brother is like the younger), and fell to a lustful spell that coupled with his anxious obsession to find a female wife. From the letter, he regrets his actions to the strongest degree and is utterly lost on what to do. Tiberius gave him the advice of telling Harry Potter the truth and apologize to him, but I now fear of what you and Draco will do now that you hold information that is supposed to be a familial matter.

I hope, and trust, that you and Draco will pick the right decision, a decision that I refuse to tell you based on my trust of you Blaise. This is all the information that I can gather about the sorry case of Cormac McLaggen and his family’s broken, terrible secret. The rest is up for you and Draco to decide. And before you make that decision, please think of the feelings and mental states of all individuals involved.

I know that you will make the right decision.

Love,

Your mother.

Draco and Blaise looked at each other. They looked down at the letter again and reread it a couple of times over, absorbing every fact, memorizing every detail. Finally they looked up and Draco said, “It seems that McLaggen is a simple abuse case with many things to hide.”

“Things that would kill him if his friends and family were to learn about his true self,” Blaise said.

“Your mother is warning us against our plan, you know,” Draco said.

“I know.”

“But I’m not backing down. What is that saying? ‘All is fair in love and war.’ And right now, I am at war with Cormac McLaggen,” Draco said. Blaise gave an approving nod. “It doesn’t matter if he activated Harry’s heat. He’s in the wrong anyway! Harry is mine; it was supposed to be me who activated his head.”

“Cormac did a terrible thing,” Blaise said. “And I think it’s time to pay him a visit.”

They’ve made their way to the Great Hall for dinner. The hall was already filled with students eating so nobody paid them any mind or sense as the two Slytherins came in. They sat down at their usual places at the Slytherin Table and smiled at the Potter Twins when they saw that they were staring at them. Draco pulled out a small roll of parchment and wrote a small note telling McLaggen to meet them after dinner in the courtyard outside the entrance hall. They ate their dinner with an enthusiastic glee at the thought of confronting Cormac. Finally, Draco thought, the moron will leave Harry alone.

Dinner moved quickly for them and Blaise and Draco were the first ones to get up and leave the Great Hall. They went into the courtyard and waited. It was a cloudy night but the moonlight peaked through every now and then. They waited in the middle of the courtyard, shuffling from foot to foot as they waited for their victim to appear. Blaise held the letter in his hand tightly as the doors opened ten minutes later and Cormac McLaggen appeared. “Where are you? Why’d you put dungbombs on me?”

“Hello McLaggen! We want to talk with you,” Draco said.

“Malfoy? Is that you? What is Zabini doing here as well?” McLaggen said.

Draco smirked. “We want to talk with you, specifically we want you to stay away from Harry.”

“Why would I do that? I have a crush on him,” Cormac said.

“Because Cormac,” Blaise said. “We know about your past. If you don’t leave Harry alone, we’ll let Daddy Julio McLaggen know about you and Harry.”

Cormac stared at them, his skin growing pale. “You…”

“I mean, first he found your shirts… which caused you getting a bad licking didn’t it?” Blaise asked, opening the letter. “Who knows how angry he’ll be if he learns that you A) Wanted to date a boy and B) accidently set off this boy’s heat! That would be for a nasty hurting, wouldn’t it Draco?”

“It would Blaise,” Draco nodded.

Cormac moved faster than either of them could see. He gripped Blaise by the throat and pushed him against the wall. “Don’t you dare,” He said tearfully, his face red. “Don’t you even think about it.”

“Why not Cormac?” Blaise gagged. “Afraid Daddy’ll hit you hard for not finding a wife? Man you’re pathetic.”

Cormac felt a hand on his shoulder and was pushed, hard, away from Blaise and onto the floor. The shock of hitting the floor triggered something inside him and he broke down. He screamed incoherently as fat tears fell from his eyes and streaked across his red face. He stared at Draco and Blaise. “Fuck you!” he screamed. “Fuck you! You don’t know how hard it is! Hiding myself from my dad! Hiding who I am from him! And during all of this—he insists—orders me to get a wife! Get a wife by the end of seventh year or I’m gone! Get a wife at the end of seventh year or I’m disinherited! You don’t have fathers as bat-shit crazy as he is! You don’t have fathers who constantly beat you and tell you that it is all part of being a man! You don’t have SHIT to worry about!

“I fucked up! I know it! I fucked up with Harry! I trigged his FUCKING HEAT! BUT AT LEAST NOW I’M TRYING TO DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT! I’M TRYING TO TAKE FUCKING RESPONSIBILITY! … When I heard that Harry and that other guy joked about Harry being his wife I broke! I thought that this was my way out of my father’s influence! I fucked up, I moved too fast, and now I’m trying to take responsibility! I’m trying to say sorry to Harry, but every time I get close I hear my father’s voice again and I break down again! I just want to say sorry to Harry! I just want to explain—is that too fucking hard? I’m not a fucking monster—I just fucked up! And I’m trying to take fucking responsibility!”

Cormac looked hysterically his breathing was fast, his tears fell fully coating his red cheeks with salty water. He looked as if he was hyperventilating as he started coughing between his sad, loud, mournful cries. Draco and Blaise just stared at the boy in front of them and steeled their hearts until they became icy cold. Draco walked up to Cormac and patted him on the back. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” he said. “I know exactly how to fix your problem.”

“You do?” Cormac cried, looking up. He never looked so small and weak as he does so in this moment.

“Yeah… just pretend you’re straight, get a girl, any girl, and show her to your father. Leave Harry alone. Harry isn’t yours, he’s mine. He is my boyfriend you see, we met first and I placed my claim on him first. This isn’t about you Cormac, this is about Harry and me. This really isn’t your story, is it? No, no I don’t think so. You can cry and bitch all you want about your father, but you’re not the only ones with bad fathers. So stay away from Harry. If you don’t, your father will learn exactly how much of a ‘fairy’ you are,” Draco said coldly.

He stood up and walked out of the courtyard and back into the castle. Blaise followed him. Cormac was soon alone, still curled on the floor. The winds picked up; the rain began but Cormac didn’t move. Time flown as the castle’s occupants went to their warm beds and dreamed sweet dreams. Somewhere in Gryffindor Tower Harry slept with James in their bed, both boys dreaming of their sweet dates with two Slytherins. Cormac McLaggen just cried. His tears mingled with the rain as his robes gotten soaked. He just cried and continued to cry until he felt any and all emotions drain his body, leaving him as a ghost in a shell.

Chapter Text

Chapter 12

Voldemort grew up in an orphanage. That was the main focus of Harry’s and Jamie’s second meeting with Dumbledore. They again went into the headmaster’s office and viewed a memory in the Pensieve, Dumbledore’s this time. It seems that after Merope gave birth to Voldemort, whom she named after his father, she died. And left Voldemort in a muggle orphanage which he hated. Harry still did not know what the points of these lessons are, his mind was too full of wondering why he and Jamie were shown these memories. Voldemort was a resourceful child; he was secretive, highly intelligent, and, something that Dumbledore made sure to point out, friendless. Why would Harry and Jamie need to know that?

Harry made sure to ask this question to Draco when they’ve met up the next day. They were in the courtyard hidden in a corner. Harry insisted that they always meet in a public place, yet stay somewhere where nobody can bother them. Draco, as always, was happy to oblige. “Why would he show us these memories? I don’t see the point of them,” Harry frowned. “How will learning about Voldemort’s past help us survive when we have to fight him?”

“I don’t know Harry,” Draco said. “But maybe… hmm… would it work?” he started to mumble to himself.

“What work?” Harry asked looking at him. They were sitting on a stone bench, about half a foot separating each other. Draco looked at Harry and said, “Remember what you told me? About how you’re trying to figure out a way out of the prophecy? To save both you and Jamie from the war?”

“Yeah…”

“Well,” Draco smirked. “It sounds insane… but how about we start working on that? Let’s convince the Dark Lord—sorry, Voldemort to attack Dumbledore. If they fight, and only they, I am positive that they’ll cancel each other out or something.”

“It’s insane, how do you even supposed to do that?” Harry huffed. Draco smirked and pull out his wand.

“Can I cast that muffle spell?” he asked. Harry nodded, looking at him curiously. Draco waved his wand and said, “Muffiato!” When they were both certain that the spell was up, Draco pocketed his wand and turned his attention to Harry, shifting on the bench so that his body faced Harry’s. “How deep are you and Jamie? In the Dark Arts?” he asked.

Harry blushed. “We don’t do those kinds of spells, we would never think of it. But we dabble enough in spells that the Ministry forbids or made illegal for whatever reason,” he said.

“Such as?”

“There is one spell, it is based off of Veritaserum,” Harry said. “We worked on it together and use it only a handful of times. It’s called ‘Veritasermo.’ The Truth-Telling Spell it’s called. Took us a long time to get it right, this was used before the potion was even made. Anyway, the last time we…I used it was on Blaise in the train.”

“Why’d you use it on him?” Draco asked.

“To make sure he was telling the truth,” Harry said. “This was before we know that he and Ze were the same person.”

Draco nodded and breathed through his nose, contemplating. “What else do you two do?” he asked.

“I’m sure my diaries would be considered Dark Arts, or at least Dark Artifacts,” Harry said. “They’re the first in existence after all. I am a Parseltongue while my brother is not; and umm… Jamie just knows about the diaries and the spell.” Harry’s cheeks blazed with embarrassment as if he was holding onto a secret.

“What do you mean?” Draco insisted.

Harry looked up at Draco. “Before I tell you… promise me that you will never, ever, talk about this to Jamie. Please. Or Ron. I promised both of them that I would never do this and it would break their trust,” Harry said.

Draco reached for Harry’s hands and held them gently in his. “I promise Harry,” he said. “What we talk about now would never, ever be known to either James or Ron.”

Harry let out a sigh and said, “I practice the Dark Arts, not my brother. He’s cool with it, but only with things that will help us or just seem cool to do. I on the other hand… I’ve constantly read about the Dark Arts. On our first trip to Diagon Alley, back when we were eleven, Jamie and I got away from Hagrid and roamed around the place. We somehow founded ourselves in Knockturn Alley, and soon in a store with a huge snake tank in the middle. They were talking, and I talked back to them. In Parseltongue, only I didn’t know it at the time. The shopkeeper however, he was shocked and told us about it. He gave us books about the Dark Arts… as thanks for allowing him to hear Parseltongue. We looked through it and Jamie was put off by what we read. I however… I was fascinated. I wanted to know more, to learn more, so when Jamie told me to throw the books away, I hid them instead. I hid and read them all. I’ve told nobody this, shown nobody this. I kept reading these books, practiced some of their spells… I think I may have permanently lowered Crabbe’s and Goyle’s intelligence.

“Anyway, Jamie made me promise never to use any of the kinds of spells we’ve read about in our first visit, and Ron made both of us swear to never, ever touch Dark Magic at all just this summer. If they found out… it would be devastating,” Harry frowned.

“Don’t worry Harry, they’ll never find out,” Draco said. “This will stay a secret between you and me.”

“Thank you Draco, seriously,” Harry smiled. Draco brought Harry’s hands to his lips and kissed them gently.

“You can always rely on me Harry, I promise,” he said. “As long as you’re with me, there’s nothing to worry about.”

“Expect Voldemort… and McLaggen,” Harry muttered.

“Don’t worry about McLaggen, he’s taken care of,” Draco said.

“Really? What did you do?” Harry asked.

“Just some harmless pranks,” Draco said smoothly, and Harry believed his lie.

Harry nodded. He moved closer to Draco and slowly leaned his head against Draco’s shoulder. He moved his hand so that he was holding Draco’s and placed their hands in his lap. Draco relaxed and leaned his head on Harry’s. They sat there in equal silence, both just enjoying each other’s company, Harry drawing from the strength of Draco’s muscles.

“So…” Harry’s soft voice broke the silence minutes later. “How are we going to do it? How are we going to convince Voldemort?”

“First… we’ll write a letter,” Draco said.

Cormac McLaggen wasn’t eating properly. He didn’t have his normal fill of breakfast, or lunch, or dinner. His friends noticed this and asked him what was the matter. Cormac looked at them, but didn’t answer, his eyes shifting somewhere that his friends couldn’t see. “Is it your dad? Did he—“

“No…”

“Then what?”

“I… no…” Cormac said. He stood up and said, “I’m going to bed.”

“But it’s not even five,” his friend said.

“I’m tired.”

Cormac’s feet shuffled as he walked away from the Gryffindor Table in the Great Hall. He couldn’t find himself to walk properly, lately he couldn’t find himself to do anything. He just moved passively, his mind too full of anxiety of his father’s reaction. He’s going to disinherit me, he’s going to throw me out of the family. I’m going to have nothing, I’m going to be alone. Harry hates me. The last thought hurt most of all. Cormac believed that he could do anything if he had the boy he loved by his side, but he ruined his only chance and now because of Malfoy and Zabini, he’ll never have another one. “I fucked up, I over did it, I scared him away,” Cormac muttered to himself. “I’m an awful, despicable abomination. …Why can’t I act right?”

Dungbombs hit his back and exploded, staining his clothes in a disgusting smell. Cormac didn’t care, this was quickly becoming a regular occurrence. “God you smell McLaggen!” someone laughed.

“Got hit again poof? Good riddance!”

“Man, who did you piss off McLaggen? You stink!”

Cormac made his way to Gryffindor Tower slowly. Everyone he ran into quickly got out of his way, holding their nose dramatically and looking utterly repulsed by him. In Gryffindor Tower he retreated to his dormitory and threw his clothes in the hamper. Naked, he padded towards the bathrooms and turned one of the shower stalls on. He stepped in and leaned against the wall, sliding downwards until he sat on the floor, the hot water hitting his hair and neck. Cormac curled his legs to his chest and just stared in the distance. He should be angry, he should be furious, he should find those two snakes and beat the ever-loving crap out of them. But he can’t. If he touches them, aggravates them in anyway… then Harry will know what a disgusting abomination he is.

“All I ever wanted to do,” Cormac said softly to himself, “was to date you, Harry. It took me two years to build up the courage… and now… stupid Malfoy. Why do I have to ruin everything? I can’t even get my own dad to like me.”

Harry and Draco were in the library while the rest of the castle was in the Great Hall having dinner. They had the entire room to themselves, not even Madam Pince was in roaming about and telling students to be quiet. They were sitting at a table in the back of the library just in case. On the table was Harry’s diaries, as well as several pieces of parchment and a bottle of ink. Harry held a quill in his hand and closed his eyes. “I have to think,” he said to Draco. “I can’t believe we’re doing this so I have to think about what precisely I will write to Voldemort.”

“If I can give you some pointers,” Draco said. “Address him as the Dark Lord. Play to his ego, and convince him that you hate Dumbledore as much as he hates him.”

“But I don’t hate Dumbledore that much,” Harry said. “I just want out.”

“I know Harry, but we have to convince him that you do hate him,” Draco said. Harry nodded and looked down at the parchment.

Harry was silent for a moment before looking up at Draco, “I think I know what to write,” he said before dipping his quill into the first bottle of ink. “This might be on the long side though, so please bear with me.”

Draco nodded.

To the Dark Lord,

This is Harry Fleamont Potter. There are things that I wish to tell you, things that Dumbledore doesn’t know; things that would cause Dumbledore to accuse me of being a Dark Wizard. My twin brother and I, we both use the Dark Arts. I practice the Dark Arts. My brother Jamie, he only uses a couple of spells the Ministry of Magic and Dumbledore deems illegal while staying away from the darker stuff. I however, I’ve learned those spells, read their tomes and mastered their secrets. My Lord, if I can call you that, my Lord I am begging you to cease your hunt for my brother and I. The war between you and Dumbledore is a war that Jamie and I do not want to be a part of. There is so much more about the Dark Arts that I want to learn, so much more about Parseltongue that I want to learn. I feel like I’ve only scratched the surface and the only way for me to satisfy my thirst for knowledge is to live. And the only way I can see living is staying out of the war, and getting rid of Dumbledore.

Everyone believes that Jamie and I are these perfect twins who are the poster-children for Dumbledore’s examples and teachings but we’re far from that. Jamie and I excel in Defense Against the Dark Arts but only because we know the Dark Arts personally. I’ve created and regularly use an artifact that the Ministry and Dumbledore would readily call a Dark Artifact simply because it is new. The three pages included with this letter are three copies from my diaries. Simply press your wand against the page and the memory written down will play as if you are viewing from a Pensieve. The memories included are as followed: My first time speaking Parseltongue, myself experimenting with the Dark Arts, and a memory I wish to forget. I give these memories to you as proof of my intellect as well as my earnestness in my request.

I do not wish to lose my brother. His safety is of the utmost importance to me and has driven me to do many things, such as deciding to contact you. Dumbledore would be unreasonable. He would destroy my precious diaries and force myself and Jamie to throw our lives away for him. He would rather waste or lives away because of a “prophecy” rather than allowing us to live the way we want to live.

Harry paused and placed the quill back in the ink bottle. “The more I think about it… the more it makes sense,” he said, looking at Draco.

“What does?”

“Dumbledore’s actions,” Harry said. “The more I write about it, the more the mysterious circumstances makes perfect sense. Such as Jamie and I going to live with the Dursleys instead of Sirius, or why Viktor broke up with me. …I think Dumbledore must have had a hand in it.”

“But why?” Draco asked, deciding not to ask about who ‘Viktor” is.

“Because if I was with Viktor, I would have gone away from England that summer, I would have been in Bulgaria where they practice the Dark Arts openly! The things I could have learned… the romantic nights Viktor and I could have had,” Harry sighed. He shook his head. “He’s over though, and now I have you.” He gave Draco a faint smile. “Dumbledore must have ruined my relationship with Viktor in order to keep me here, keep me with the Dursleys. Why, I cannot say, but it must have something to do with him wanting me to fight.”

“When you lay it out like this, it does make sense,” Draco nodded. “To think the old man would swoop so low.”

Harry nodded, took the quill again, and continued to write.

When I was being sorted the hat gave me a choice: Gryffindor or Slytherin. It noted that I had several traits that Salazar Slytherin coveted, but in my foolishness I’ve denied them. Because of Dumbledore and the pressure he and the rest of the Wizarding Community have placed on myself, I’ve denied who I truly am. My Lord, I am a Dark Wizard.

I want to research the Dark Arts, I want to learn more about, embrace myself deeply in it’s vast pool of knowledge. I want to one day become a great a Dark Wizard like you, my Lord, and Grindlewald before you and Morgan Le Fay before him. But the only way I can see that happening is if Dumbledore is gone, and my brother is out of the war. I will do anything to protect my brother, to help my brother survive. There are spells that sew limbs together, that return spilt blood back into grisly wounds, and brings a person back from the brink of death. These spells are all considered Dark Magic, these spells are all terrible difficult, and though I have had no need to cast them, and wish to have no need, I know the theory, I know the movements, and I know the costs. I am willing to do anything to save my brother, even if that means helping you orchestrate Dumbledore’s death.

I’ve befriended Draco Malfoy. We are… close, we told each other secrets that we wouldn’t dare let others know. I know of his mark and his mission, and he knows of my true alliance to Dark Magic and my active use and practicing of Parseltongue. We are helping each other. There are things that he and I both want and we are working towards that goal.

But why should you trust me? All you know, my Lord, I am simply writing under Dumbledore’s order. Well, in order to gain your trust, I will present you information that Dumbledore would never want anyone to learn. He is giving Jamie and I private lessons. During these lessons, we are not learning spells or tactics but instead we’re watching memories, events from the past that all circle around you, my Lord.

Again, the quill goes into the ink bottle. “Am I calling him ‘my Lord’ too much?” he asked Draco.

Draco looked at the letter and shook his head. “No, it makes it look that you are on his side, that you’ve already submitted to him. Like I said Harry, stroke his ego, men love it when you do.”

“Does that mean I should be stroking your ego?” Harry chuckled.

“Only when we reached that point, Harry,” Draco smirked. “Just know that my ego is enormous.”

“Sure,” Harry said, shaking his head lightly. It feels so good to act like a regular teenager sometimes. He took the quill and continued writing.

The first memory was from a Ministry worker who visited the Gaunt Family. Morfin was being charged for hexing the muggle Tom Riddle, your father. During the memory, my brother and I have learned of your ancestry. More importantly there was a ring that Marvolo Gaunt wore. Dumbledore has it… or had it. During our second lesson, the ring laid destroyed on the desk, though I don’t know why, and I am sorry for that. The second memory was from Dumbledore himself and it was about your first meeting. You lived in an orphanage, friendless. The other kids were afraid of you and Dumbledore made you give back your souvenirs from bullying the muggles. You told Dumbledore that you could talk to snakes and Dumbledore paused.

I don’t know why Dumbledore is showing us these memories, it seems that he is trying to figure out something, something that is connected to you. I will be reading all texts I have on the Dark Arts, I will be trying to figure out what Dumbledore is looking for before he can. When I find out his goals, I will tell you.

I wish to repeat this point again, I am doing this to keep my brother safe. Neither of us want to fight, neither of us want to lose each other. If joining you is the only way to keep him out of combat I am ready for any consequences.

Sincerely,

Harry Fleamont Potter.

P.S. The letter and pages are charmed with a spell of my improvement. They can only show the truth. Try writing a lie and it will change automatically.

Harry placed the quill in the ink bottle for a final time and read over his letter. “It seems convincing enough to me,” he said sliding the letter carefully to Draco.

Draco read it and a smirk grew on his face. “Harry, dear, you would make a brilliant Slytherin, I think,” he said. He looked up to Harry and said, “Even I am convinced.”

“Perfect,” Harry said. He took out his wand and tapped the page muttering to himself. The page seemed to glow for a second before settling down. “Obviously there are lies on the letter already, so the spell will only fix lies that aren’t in my handwriting,” Harry said.

Draco shook his head smirking mirthfully. “Seriously Harry! You should have been a Slytherin,” he said. Harry blushed and hid a smile. “Then my goals and interests would only be too obvious,” he said.

Harry opened a diary and turned to one of the first pages. “Jamie’s and my first visit to Diagon Alley,” he said scanning the words. “Such a more simpler time back then,” he sighed. With his wand he flipped through the pages until he reached the scene he wanted to copy. “Draco can you hand me that piece of parchment?” he asked.

Draco slid it over and Harry tapped his diary. The memory started to play on the pages. Harry circled the wand, muttering wordlessly to himself and Draco watched in amazement as the memory started to double. He was staring at two versions of eleven-year-old Harry and Jamie. The second version lifted into the air with Harry’s wand and transferred to the parchment, sinking into it as words appeared. The image sunk into the page and soon nothing was left but an exact copy of the words written in the diary. “It worked!?” Harry said shocked.

“You mean you didn’t think it would?” Draco asked.

“No, honestly,” Harry said. “There are no runes in these pages.”

“Huh…” Draco said. He gave Harry the two last pieces of parchment and watched as Harry did the same with two more memories. When it was all done, Harry folded the pages in thirds and laid them on top of the letter, which he folded over the memories. “Hopefully he’ll read this,” Draco said.

“Hopefully,” Harry nodded. “Now the only thing left is how to send it.”

“You can’t use your owl, obviously,” Draco said. Harry nodded and bit his lip in thought.

“I told him that we are working together,” Harry said. “Perhaps it would be useful if I use your owl?”

“You want to use my eagle owl?” Draco asked. Harry nodded. “Okay then, let’s go,” Draco said standing up. Harry followed and the two made their way out of the library and towards the Owlery. “Hopefully if everything goes correctly, Dumbledore and Voldemort will be gone by… say Christmas?”

“Christmas?” Harry said. “But that’s two months away. Do you really think we can get them to kill each other by then?”

“Of course,” Draco said. “I want them gone so we can have a peaceful holiday, Harry. Voldemort is a proud man, he will snatch at our bait. I know he will.”

“Like you said, we need to stroke his massive ego,” Harry couldn’t help but snicker. Draco nodded and snickered along with Harry. The two of them quickly made their way to the Owlery. “Icarus! Get down Icarus!” Draco called. A large owl flew down and landed on a perch near them. Harry handed Draco the letter and diary entries who slipped them in a harness around the owl. “This is important Icarus,” Draco said. “Fly as swift as you can and send these to the Dark Lord, and the Dark Lord alone. Do not return without his reply. Now go!” Icarus spread his wings and flew out of the Owlery.

The two teens turned to each other and smiled. “Harry,” Draco breathed. “May I kiss you?”

“Yes,” Harry said. Draco closed the distance between them and kissed Harry fully, wrapping his arms around Harry and held him close as he gently took control of the kiss, and dominated his small Potter.

“Anyway,” Blaise said as he and Jamie walked down the corridor hand-in-hand. “Slughorn’s going to have a Christmas party, Jamie, and there’s no way you and Harry will be able to wiggle out of this one because he actually asked me and Granger to check your free evenings, so he could be sure to have it on a night you two can come.”

Jamie groaned. “Seriously Blaise? Couldn’t you just try to lie to him?”

“Come on, it’ll be fun I’m sure,” Blaise said. “I’ll keep you far away from Slughorn, I promise,” he chuckled. “Besides there’s going to be so many people there that I’m sure Slughorn will not even notice you and Harry.”

“Oh he will, believe me,” Jamie said.

“I’ll make it worth your while,” Blaise smirked. “Your heat is manageable today right?”

“Yeah, it’s okay,” Jamie said, flinching slightly at the heat that centered around his stomach. “Though I’m not getting what you’re suggesting.”

“Easy Jamie,” Blaise smirked. “You be a good boy at the party, and Daddy Blaise might have a nice treat for you.”

Jamie laughed. “’Daddy Blaise?’ There’s no way I’m calling you that. …But I guess it might be fun, I guess,” he sighed. “Now why don’t we head to Gryffindor Tower? I’m getting a bit tired. And I need to make sure I win our first Quidditch game”

“Of course my love,” Blaise said. “I’ll be cheering for you… until Slytherin naturally wins.”

“As if,” Jamie smirked.

The Quidditch match was a week later. Harry and Jamie were having breakfast with Ron and Hermione. The boys were all dressed in their Quidditch uniform, Ron had a bludger’s bat across of him as he ate. “Do you really need to have that here?” Hermione asked, looking a bit distastefully at the bat.

“Fred and George did and they didn’t lose a match,” Ron shrugged. Colin moved down the table and latched onto Ron’s hips. “Hey pup,” Ron chuckled.

“I wanted to wish you good luck,” Colin said, giving Ron a huge kiss that made the people around them blush and look away awkwardly. Ron wrapped a possessive arm around Colin and whispered something in Colin’s ear that Harry thankfully couldn’t hear. Colin slipped off of Ron’s lap and kissed Ron’s cheek before hopping back to his original seat.

Jamie cleared his throat. “It’s nearly time,” he said.

The frosty grass crunched underfoot as they strode down to the stadium. “Pretty lucky the weather’s tis good, eh?” Harry asked Ron.

“Yeah,” Ron nodded. He looked nervous, but excited as well. His skin was pale but he had a huge grin on his face. Ginny and Katie were already wearing their Quidditch robes and waiting in the changing room.

“Condition looks ideal,” Ginny said. “And guess what? The Slytherin Chaser Vaisey—he took a Bludger in the head yesterday during their practice, and he’s too sore to play!”

“That was their best goal scorer,” Jamie said. “Looks like I’m going to have an easy time. Have fun chasing Malfoy, Harry.” Jamie gave Harry a grin, which he returned. “Please all you do is sit on your broom and let the Quaffle bounce off your pecs, it’s not really hard for you, is it?” Harry said.

Jamie laughed and flexed his muscles dramatically. “Alright boys, that’s enough,” Katie said. “Jamie we’ve got five minutes, any last-second speeches like Oliver?”

“No, I think we all know what we need to do,” Jamie said. He looked at Harry and said, “You better not go light on Malfoy, Harry.”

“It’s Quidditch, I would never,” Harry said.

They walked out onto the pitch to tumultuous roars and boos. One end of the stadium was solid red and gold; the other, a sea of green and silver. Many Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws had taken sides too: Amidst all the yelling and clapping Harry could distinctly hear the roar of Luna Lovegood’s famous lion-topped hat.

Jamie stepped up to Madam Hooch, the referee, who was standing ready to release the balls from the crate.

“Captains, shake hands,” she said, and Jamie had an even strong handshake with the new Quidditch captain, Urquhart. “Mount your brooms. On the whistle …three …two… one…”

The whistle sounded, Harry and the others kicked off hard from the frozen ground, and they were away. Harry soared around the perimeter of the grounds, looking around for the Snitch and keeping one eye on Draco, who was lollygagging below him. Then a voice that was jarringly different to the usual commentator’s started up.

“Well, there they go, and I think we’re all surprised to see the team that Potter’s put together this year. It’s no surprise to see he kept his brother and Ron Weasley, but of course, a close personal friendship with the Captain does help…”

These words were greeted with jeers and applause from the Slytherin end of the pitch. Harry craned around on his broom to look toward the commentator’s podium. A tall, skinny blond boy with an upturned nose was standing there, talking into the magical megaphone that had once been Lee Jordan’s; Harry recognized Zacharias Smith, a Hufflepuff player whom he heartily disliked.

“Oh, and here comes Slytherin’s first attempt on goal, it’s Urquhart streaked down the pitch and— Potter saves it! Well, he’s bound to save one being as wide as he is!”

Harry looked down at Draco. “Oi!”

“What!”

Harry pointed at Smith and yelled, “Think it’s around there!?”

They both had playful smirks as they took off towards the commentator’s stand. “Looks like Potter and Malfoy spotted something they’re on the move! They’re neck to neck, coming closer and closer—but I guess Potter has an edge seeing how small—Ahh!” Smith ducked his head along with Professor McGonagall as Harry and Draco both flew dangerously close to them. “They almost ram into the commentator podium!” Smith yelled. “Do they know how to fly!?” The two circled back and acted as if they were chasing the Snitch, diving at Smith before pulling away at the last second and speeding off, both laughing at Smith’s rants.

Harry gave Draco a thumbs-up and they returned to looking for the Snitch. With half an hour of the game gone, Gryffindor was leading sixty points to zero, Jamie had made some truly spectacular saves, some of which by the very tips of his gloves, and Ginny having scored four of Gryffindor’s six goals, and Ron made sure to keep the Bludgers away from any of the Gryffindor Chasers. It was like they could do no wrong. This effectively stopped Zacharias wondering loudly whether the two Weasleys were only there because Jamie liked them, and he started on the other new Beater, Coote, instead.

“Of course, Coote isn’t really the usual build for a Beater,” Zacharias said loftily, “they’ve generally got a bit more muscle—“

“Hit a Bludger at him!” Harry called to Coote as he zoomed past, but Coote, grinning broadly, chose to aim the next Bludger at Vaisey instead, who was just passing Harry in the opposite direction. Harry was pleased to hear the dull thunk that meant the Bludger had found its mark.

They could do no wrong, Harry thought. Again and again they scored, and again and again, at the other end of the pitch, Jamie saved goals with apparent ease. He was smirking and started mocking the Slytherin Chasers. “Come on you lazy lot! Actually, throw one!” he yelled as he saved yet another goal.

“Your brother is a cocky person as usual,” Draco yelled from his broom. Harry looked at Draco to reply only to see something glittering high above them. Without thinking Harry sped off towards it, Draco chasing after.

“Potter and Malfoy saw the Snitch!” Smith said through his microphone.

Harry accelerated; the wind was whistling in his ears so that it drowned all sound of Smith’s commentary or the crowd, Draco somehow got ahead of him, and Gryffindor was only a hundred points up; if Draco got there first Gryffindor had lost …and now Draco was feet from it, his hand outstretched. …

“Oi! Draco! Let me win and there’s a reward!” Harry yelled in desperation. He did not know what made him say it, but Draco did a double-take, he fumbled the Snitch, let it slip through his fingers, and shot right past it. Harry made a great swipe for the tiny, fluttering ball and caught it.

“YES!” Harry yelled. Wheeling around, he hurtled back toward the ground, the Snitch held high in his hand.

“Cheating bastard!” Draco laughed out of annoyance and mirth. As the crowd realized what had happened, a great shout went up that almost drowned the sound of the whistle that signaled the end of the game.

The Quidditch team left the pitch arm in arm, punching the air and waving to their supporters. The atmosphere in the changing room was jubilant. “You guys did it!” Hermione screamed as she ran in. Harry expected her to drag him, Jamie, and Ron into a group hug but was shocked to see her speed past them, latched onto Ginny, and kissed her then and there.

Malfoy Manor was a dark manor. Shades were pulled over most windows, the only sources of light being candles and fireplaces. There the Dark Lord called home, at least until he won the war. He was alone in what used to be Lucius Malfoy’s study, sitting in an armchair looking over a letter and three parchments that looked to come from a diary. “This is interesting, isn’t it Nagini?” he asked, stroking the large snake as it slithered over his shoulders. “To think that Harry Potter would become so… interesting. I believe I’ve took the wrong boy’s blood,” he chuckled to himself.

The Dark Lord eyed the memories. “Such intellect and skill to make these,” he mused. “And the letter is as charmed as he said it would be. It appears that he is telling the truth. However, one cannot be too careful. A reply is required, I believe.”

The Dark Lord picked up a quill and began to write in dark red ink. He smirked to himself at the thought of Harry Potter kneeling to him, showing his alliance openly to him not only through this one letter. “If he is true in his intentions, then this would be a simple request. However, it worries me, Nagini, how close Dumbledore seems to be. I will not let that old fool get in the way any longer. I believe it is almost time for a personal visit.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 13

“Harry! I got a letter from my parents!” Draco said as he rushed towards the boy.

“A letter?”

“Yeah… and look,” Draco pulled out a letter and gave it to Harry. “It’s two pieces sealed together. You can barely see the seam.”

“Huh… I wonder,” Harry said. He picked at the seam with his fingertip for a while before making a small noise when he was able to separate them. “It’s another letter!” he said. Harry looked around the corridor they were in and was thankful that it was empty. “It’s from Voldemort,” he said he completely separated them.

A dark feeling rose in Draco’s stomach. “What does it say?” he asked.

Harry looked at his boyfriend before reading the letter.

Potter,

If what you say is true, completely true, then I have a task for you. A trial to see how committed to the Dark Arts you truly are. Simply tell me this: How am I Immortal?

Answer that question, and I will believe what you have written.

“He didn’t sign it but… it’s from him,” Harry said. “I could feel it.”

“What does he mean? Immortal?” Draco asked, his brow furrowed. “He can’t possibly mean…”

“I don’t know,” Harry frowned. “I need to look at my books again.” He looked up at Draco almost apologetically, and said, “I’m sorry Draco, but I don’t think we’ll get this done by Christmas. I need to research this, and I can only do this when the others aren’t around.”

“What books do you have?” Draco asked. “I can help.”

“They’re not going to leave the dormitory, Draco, they barely even leave the trunk,” Harry said.

“Then sneak me in and I’ll help,” Draco insisted.

“No, no thanks,” Harry said. He bit his lip lightly and shook his head. “It’ll be easier if it’s just me. I’ll keep you updated, I promise.”

“Are you sure?” Draco pressed. “Harry, I want to help you.”

“I’m sure Draco… thank you,” Harry said. He looked at Draco for a moment before standing on his toes, kissing the Slytherin lightly before stepping away. “I better get started. I’ll talk with you later, bye.”

Harry turned and left quickly, the letter scrunched in his hands. His steps echoed against the empty corridors as he turned towards the Grand Staircase. Taking the steps two at a time, Harry quickly made his way to the seventh floor and in front of the Fat Lady. He all but barked the password to her and ran into the portrait hole, ignoring everybody who waved hello to him as he raced to his dormitory. It was empty thankfully, and the boy quickly knelt in front of his trunk. Opening it, he moved all of his clothes to one side until an empty space was left. At the empty space, he poked his wand and a small clicking sound, like a latch unlocking, filled the room. With his wand still on the bottom of the trunk, Harry opened the secret compartment and pulled out several books whose pages were all yellow, worn-out and leaf-eared. Harry placed the books to his side, closed the compartment, pushed all of his clothes onto the secret latch and closed his trunk, locking it. He took the books and placed them on his bed. Closing the curtains, he muttered a privacy charm as well as the Muffliato Charm.

Content that he was truly and utterly alone, Harry picked up the first book in the small stack of dark arts texts and started to read.

Snow was swirling against the icy windows once more; Christmas was approaching fast. Hagrid had already single-handedly delivered the usual twelve Christmas trees for the Great Hall; garlands of holly and tinsel had been twisted around the banisters of the stairs; everlasting candles glowed from inside the helmets of suits of armor and great bunches of mistletoe had been hung at intervals along the corridors. Large groups of girls tended to converge underneath the mistletoe bunches every time Harry and Jamie went past, which caused blockages in the corridor; fortunately, however, the twins’ frequent nighttime wanderings had given them an unusually good knowledge of the castle’s secret passageways, so that they were able, without too much difficulty, to navigate mistletoe-free routes between classes.

Harry had developed large bags under his eyes around this time thanks to the nighttime reading that he has done every night since that letter has arrived. He had read each of his texts three times at least and still felt no closer to the solution of Voldemort’s question. Jamie noticed.

“Why aren’t you sleeping?” he demanded.

Harry did not answer, but pretended to be absorbed in the book they were supposed to have read before Charms next morning (Quintessence: A Quest).

“Harry, I asked you a question,” Jamie said again. “Why aren’t you sleeping?”

“Busy.”

“That’s not an answer!”

“It is, shut it,” Harry said. His lack of sleep caused the boy to become extremely groggy and irritable, which only increased with each fail attempt to answer Voldemort’s task.

“Harry!” Jamie yelled.

“What!” Harry yelled back. Hermione and Ron just looked at each other but said nothing. “I’m busy,” Harry said again. “Leave me alone.”

“Harry Fleamont—”

“Shut it.” Harry growled. He slammed the book shut and stomped out of the library, cursing to himself under his breath. Jamie turned to Ron and Hermione, both of whom looked bashful.

“What’s wrong with him?” Ron asked.

“Who knows,” Jamie shrugged.

“Whatever it is… he needs to be careful,” Hermione said. “Both of you do.”

“He’s a big boy, he can take care of himself,” Jamie shrugged.

“I’m not talking about his attitude, I’m talking about earlier. “I went into the bathroom just before I came in here and there were about a dozen girls in there, including that Romilda Vane, trying to decide how to slip you and Harry a love potion. They’re all hoping they’re going to get you to take them to Slughorn’s party, and they all seem to have brought Fred and George’s love potions, which I’m afraid to say probably work—”

“Then why didn’t you confiscate them!?” Jamie demanded. It seemed extraordinary that Hermione’s mania for upholding rules could have abandoned her at this crucial juncture.

“They didn’t have the potion with them in the bathroom,” Hermione said scornfully. “They were just discussing tactics. As I doubt even The Half-Blood Prince could dream up an antidote for a dozen different love potions at once, I’d just invite someone to go with you—and tell Harry the same—that’ll stop all the others thinking they’ve still got a chance. It’s tomorrow night, they’re getting desperate.”

“But… I’m going with Blaise,” Jamie said, ignoring Hermione’s rightful scorn.

“Then tell Harry,” Hermione said grimly. “And just be careful what you drink, because Romilda Vane looked like she meant business.”

She hitched up the long roll of parchment on which she was writing her Arithmancy essay and continued to scratch away with her quill. Jamie watched her with his mind a long way away.

“Hang on a moment,” he said slowly. “I thought Filch had banned anything brought at Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes?”

Ron snorted. “When does anyone pay attention to that geezer? Besides, Fred and George sends them disguised as perfumes and cough potions. It’s part of their Owl Order Service.”

Jamie and Hermione turned to stare at Ron. The redhead shrugged and said, “It was on the back of some boxes.”

“I see…” Hermione said. Her words sparked the end of the conversation as the three looked at each other for a moment before standing to leave.

“Baubles,” Jamie said to the Fat Lady, this being the new, festive password.

“Same to you,” the Fat Lady said with a roguish grin, and she swung forward to admit them.

“Jamie!” Romilda Vane called out the moment he had climbed through the portrait hole. “Your brother is a monster!” Her face was red and tear stricken. “I just asked if he wanted some gillywater and he lashed out at me!”

“Huh,” Jamie said, eyeing the girl in front of him. Hermione was giving him a “what-did-I-tell-you” look.

“Yeah! So here! I wanted to give them to him, but you can have them instead,” she thrust a box into his hands. “Chocolate Cauldrons, they’ve got firewhiskey in them. My gran sent them to me, but I don’t like them. Maybe you can share one with your brother one he learns some manners.”

“Sure…I’m just going to go over here with them…” Jamie said. He hurried off behind Hermione and Ron, his voice tailing away feebly.

“Told you,” Hermione said succinctly. “Sorry to say but I don’t think they’ll ever learn.”

“Well anyway… I’m going to go check on Harry… and throw this out,” Jamie indicated to the box. He walked up to the dormitory, which was at first glance empty. Harry’s bed had its curtains drawn but Jamie couldn’t hear anything from it. He walked towards Harry’s bed and said, “Harry? You in there?”

Silence.

“Harry! Open up.” Jamie said. He heard a small buzzing noise in his ears and groaned in frustration. “Look, I know you can hear me so just open up will you? At least sleep in my bed so I know you’re bloody sleeping!”

Harry still hasn’t responded. Jamie made a very irritated noise and said, “At least listen to me will you? Some of the girls are being crazy and try to slip us some love potions. Slughorn’s party? It’s tomorrow and they’re getting desperate. So just be careful for what you’re eating or drinking until the party’s over, all right?”

Harry still hasn’t answered. Jamie waited, his arms crossed as he tapped his foot impatiently. The buzzing noise stops and Harry poked his head out of the curtains and looked at Jamie. “How can a person become immortal?” he asked.

“What?”

“How can a person become immortal?” Harry repeated again. “That’s what Voldemort’s done, and that’s what Dumbledore is trying to find out.”

“I…how the hell should I know,” Jamie said.

“Useless,” Harry sighed. He closed the curtain and Jamie heard the buzzing again.

“Harry! Open up!” Jamie yelling in frustration. He grabbed the curtains and pulled as hard as he could, but the curtain wouldn’t budge an inch. “Damn idiot!” Jamie yelled. “Get out!”

“I’m busy!”

“Like hell you are! What the hell is wrong with you, Harry?” Jamie yelled.

“I told you, I’m busy! Go to bed!”

“Not without you.”

“Then have fun staying up all night,” Harry said. Jamie glared at the bed and sat down on his own. His arms crossed, his gaze did not leave Harry’s bed, watching ever so vigilantly as the curtains stood unnaturally still. The others came in and looked at Jamie in a confused manner before shrugging it off, the Potters are just having a fight. Soon the room was filled with boys dressed in pajamas laying in their beds. The sounds of various snores (Ron’s being the loudest) filled the air but still Jamie stared at Harry’s bed curtains, which still stayed still as if frozen in time. His eyes began to grow heavy, the soothing unison of snores filling Jamie’s brain as he continued to stare. Jamie stifled a yawn, but soon his head began to nod once… twice… he shook himself awake. But still the snores filled his mind and without warning the giant Potter fell onto his bed, asleep.

His snore joined the sleeping choir of his roommates and Harry slipped out of his bed. “Finally,” he whispered. Harry made his way to his trunk and silently placed his Dark Arts books in the hidden compartment before moving to his brother’s. Opening it, he pushed past Jamie’s clothes and textbooks in order to pull out the Invisibility Cloak and Marauder’s Map. He threw the Invisibility Cloak over himself and sneaked out of the dormitory and Gryffindor common room.

Harry opened the Marauder’s Map and whispered its incantation. He studied the map, making sure to know where Peeves, Filch, and Mrs. Norris were. They weren’t in his way, so Harry began to move, his eyes shifting every now and then as he snuck down towards the library. Harry kept his eyes on the Marauder’s Map as he moved, taking alternative corridors and turns as Filch or Mrs. Norris walk towards the corridor he was in. In the end, Harry took a long and convoluted route in order to reach the library, but once he did there was no signs of Filch, his cat, or Peeves. The portraits of famous wizard authors and past Hogwarts librarians were all sleeping in their frames. Harry ignored them and all of the bookshelves he past as he made his way towards the restricted area of the library.

The restricted section of the library was dimly lit, the books all stood on their old wooden shelves and every one had a sense of dread oozing from them. Harry walked past them, ignoring the books that are chained, locked, or restrained in anyway. Through his readings of the Dark Arts books he owned, Harry noticed several footnotes that all referred to the same author and book. He had no idea how he had never noticed it before, but then he had to remind himself that nobody every reads footnotes unless it was absolutely necessary. “Secrets of the Darkest Art by Owle Bullock,” Harry mouthed to himself as he searched the bookshelves. Behind locks and restrains, he could barely see the authors’ names, all of them were ordered alphabetically. He moved slowly through each book, his fingertip sliding down the book spines as he read each of their title and author. He found the authors and books that he already had, Dark texts whose secrets are already known to him, but yet…

“It’s not here,” Harry said. “No… can’t be.” But he looked through again and again, three times he checked and with each time he moved slower and slower, reading the title and author aloud to the empty room, sometimes reading a book title thrice to make sure that he read it correctly. During his time reading, not once did Owle Bullock’s name pop up. “Where is it?” he growled in frustration. “It should be here… I see no reason why it shouldn’t be… unless…”

Harry looked at the Marauder’s Map again. “Why wouldn’t that book be in here…” he muttered to himself. “The others are here, why not this one?” He looked around the library’s section of the map, wondering if there is a corridor or a room that he never noticed before or looked in. Finding none, he then started looking around the castle, trying to figure out where Madam Pince could hide the book. “But she wouldn’t do something like that, would she? Hide a book…Unless… it’s not her who hid it. But who else would hide the book?” Harry sighed and looked up at the ceiling. “Come on Harry, you can do this. There has to be something you’re missing.”

“Voldemort gave me a task: the task of finding out how he is immortal. It must be Dark Arts, it must have something to do with that so how? How did he achieve this? He must have been researching this long before he left Hogwarts… maybe he started when he was my age, or maybe younger? So he must have found the answers in a book here, Bullock’s book, but why isn’t it here? What changed between those times?” His thoughts turned to Dumbledore. “He was only a teacher when Voldemort came here… since then he became Headmaster. …If he already knows how Voldemort became immortal, or if he at least knows the book he used… Dumbledore would have removed it to prevent other students from learn the secrets Voldemort learned. …If that is true... then it would be… in… his office?”

Harry frowned and looked at the map. Dumbledore’s office was deserted. The Headmaster asleep in his quarters next to it. Harry stared at the office for a long moment before making up his mind. Putting the Invisibility Cloak on again, he ran out of the library and slowly made his way to Dumbledore’s office. The gargoyle guarding the entrance jumped aside when Harry said the password to it, and he rode the staircase as it spiraled towards Dumbledore’s door. He stepped inside the office and took off the cloak. Nothing was moving, the past headmasters were all snoozing in their portraits, Fawkes the phoenix was resting in his cage. Harry slipped his wand out and whispered, “Accio Secrets of the Darkest Art.”

A large, thick tome came flying out of Dumbledore’s desk and towards Harry. The boy caught it just as the oil lamps in the room sparked to life. “Harry, I was wondering who my nighttime intruder was,” Dumbledore chuckled merrily. “Though, I am very concerned to see you holding that book.”

“Professor Dumbledore… I didn’t know I woke you up,” Harry said, panicking for a second.

“Don’t worry, though I would like to have an explanation on why a student is sneaking around the headmaster’s office,” Dumbledore said.

“I’ve… I’ve been thinking,” Harry said, his mind whirling as he tried to fix up a lie. “Looking through the memories, and remembering things that Voldemort told me himself… I couldn’t help but wonder why he kept coming back. I mean, when he tried… when he tried to kill Jamie and I when we were babies, the Killing Curse was rebounded onto him. He should have died but he didn’t. Then when we were in our first year, Jamie went against Quirrell and Voldemort, but I didn’t know how that could be. I mean, he supposed to have died but his spirit or something lived on. And then there was that diary in second year that I went against. Tom Riddle told me that Voldemort was his past, present, and future. He grew into Voldemort… but how could a memory do all of that? I’ve looked through the restricted section… read a lot of terrible things, but each book I’ve looked all pointed to this book here, but I couldn’t find it in the library, sir. …”

“You think that this book holds the answer, don’t you?” Dumbledore asked.

“Maybe,” Harry said. “Have you read it, sir?”

“No, I have not,” Dumbledore said. “I must admit that where there are few things I fear, the contents of that book is one of them.”

“Then… would you mind then, if I look into the book?” Harry asked hopefully.

“If you believe that it would help in our quest to defeat Voldemort, I will allow you to venture into the dangerous unknowns found in that book,” Dumbledore said. “Only, however, if I am here to supervise and help you if the dangers of that book becomes too much. Do you agree?”

“Yes sir,” Harry said at once.

“Then, I must also say that unfortunately, we cannot delve into this book, nor anytime soon as I have pressing duties that ask me to leave the castle momentarily,” Dumbledore said.

“I think I understand,” Harry said. “But sir… can I at least look at the book’s table of contents, if it has one? That way I’ll have an idea on how to proceed.”

“That should come to no harm, I expect,” Dumbledore said. He moved to sit down at his desk and motioned for Harry to move as well. “Please, sit down Harry. You might as well be comfortable as we venture into dangerous territory.”

Harry couldn’t help but chuckle. He moved to Dumbledore’s desk and placed the book down. He sat down in an armchair in front of the desk and pulled it closer. Harry opened the book and examined the table of contents. He then slowly skimmed the book, opening page by page, both himself and Dumbledore just staring at the page as if waiting for the answer to spring forth to them. It took Harry half an hour to get through the book. Both he and Dumbledore looked at every page, never stopping at a sentence, only reading snippets of words, while Harry memorized every page to the best of his ability. When he closed the back cover, he looked at Dumbledore and thanked him.

“Has anything sprung out at you, Harry?” Dumbledore asked.

“No sir, I guess the best we can do is just start at the beginning,” he said.

“Yes, that is usually the best place to start,” Dumbledore chuckled smiling mirthfully. He looked at a clock hanging on a wall and said, “It seems we’ve burnt more than the midnight’s oil Harry, it is nearly three o’clock. I suggest we both retire to our beds for as little sleep as we can get.”

“You’re right sir, thank you. And goodnight,” Harry said standing up. He gathered the map and his Invisibility Cloak and walked down spiral staircase away from the headmaster’s office. He ran back to Gryffindor Tower, saying the password to a snoring Fat Lady who opened up without opening her eyes. Harry couldn’t help but smirk to himself laughing coldly to himself as he returned to the dormitory.

Harry quickly grabbed his latest journal and turned to a free page. With precise hand movements, he pulled the memory out of his mind, the wand pressed against his temple drifting slowly away towards the pages of the journal. With the memory holding onto the wand, handing limp in the air, Harry flicked his wrist and the memory fell, filling the pages of the day’s events. Harry immediately went towards the end of his day, watching what just transpired in Dumbledore’s office. He watched as his past self started to look at the book. Harry pressed his wand against the journal and stared at the image, it was the table of contents each word there for him to read and reread as much as he liked. He then allowed the memory to play, pausing at the first page. All of its words were there, as if a camera has taken a photograph of it. Harry’s smirk widen as page after page he looked at the completed work of Owle Bullock’s Secrets of the Darkest Art.

“It’s all here,” Harry laughed to himself. “Every page…every word. Everything that I will ever need. Tom… Dumbledore… you’ve lost.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 14

Jamie noticed that Harry seemed… happier. Which was odd considering that today was the day both boys were dreading: Slughorn’s party. His twin was actually humming! Jamie thought that it was because after today’s day of lessons, and Slughorn’s party, both boys will be on their way to the Burrow with Ron. But that couldn’t be the reason since Harry’s mood seemed to have magically change overnight after their argument. Harry acted as if their argument and his nasty temperament didn’t even existed! During Transfiguration, they had just embarked upon the immensely difficult topic of human Transfiguration; working in front of mirrors, they were supposed to be changing the color of their own eyebrows. On his fourth attempt Harry transfigured his eyebrows into a shade of platinum blonde before trying to transfigure the shape of his eyebrows. He worked diligently and, most surprising for Jamie, he was smiling. It seemed rare for Harry to smile in recent weeks, and Jamie couldn’t help but feel oddly suspicious. Jamie leaned towards his brother as Professor McGonagall walked towards them.

“Completely different shade and shape,” she said. “Good job Potter, five points to Gryffindor.”

She walked away and Jamie leaned towards Harry. “What’s the matter with you?” he whispered.

“Nothing’s the matter, Jamie,” Harry said. “Just feeling… happy.”

“What happened between last night and now, Harry?” Jamie asked. “Last night you were refusing to talk to me and looked as if you were going to bite anyone’s neck off for looking at you the wrong way.”

“Nothing happened Jamie, I’m just… happy,” Harry smiled. “The stupid heat’s not bothering me, I’ve not stupid itch inside me… what’s there to be angry about?”

“Then tell me why you were stressed out the last few weeks,” Jamie said.

“Nothing is wrong Jamie, serious,” Harry said, turning his attention back to the mirror in front of him and making a rather sneering look. “I think if I make my face a bit more pointier, I’ll look like Draco,” he joked with the sneer.

Jamie didn’t laugh as he continued to stare at his twin. “There’s something wrong with you, Harry, there is,” he said. “I’m trying to help—”

“I’m not pushing you away Jamie, I’m not,” Harry said. “There are some things that Draco and I need to do, and we can do it without anyone’s help. I have it covered.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel good Harry?” Jamie asked, his voice raising slightly. “Because that is doing the opposite effect.”

Harry sighed and looked around. Nobody was looking at them, the rest of the students too far busy concentrating staring into the mirrors to change their eyebrow colors and Professor McGonagall reviewing Ron’s disastrous three attempts. Harry leaned in close to his twin and kissed his cheek, his lips resting on his brother’s cheek for as long as possible. Jamie embraced his brother’s affection, his fingers slipping into Harry’s hair as the younger whispered as his twin’s cheek, “I’m okay Jamie, I can do this.”

“What are you doing Harry?” Jamie whispered. “That’s all I want to know.”

“Something that will keep us all safe,” Harry promised. “Something that’ll keep you safe.”

“Love you,” Jamie muttered. “Don’t want to lose you.”

“You’ll never lose me,” Harry said. He moved to the other cheek and rested his lips on it. “You’ll always have me Jamie.”

“And you’ll always have me,” Jamie promised. “Which is why… I want you to tell me everything.”

“I will… but not today,” Harry said, his lips dangerously close to Jamie, their closeness sending a spark down both their bodies. “I promise.”

“Harry,” Jamie said warningly, pulling away. The two stared at each other for a moment before Harry’s eyes shifted to Jamie’s eyebrows. “You only have one changed,” he said changing the topic drastically. “You should focus on that.” He turn to his own mirror and started to turn his eyebrows to their natural color.

“Bastard,” Jamie swore turning his mirror.

When the bell rang Blaise met up with Jamie outside the classroom and kissed him fully on the lips. “Missed me?” he smirked.

“We were in the same room,” Jamie said. “Kind of hard to miss someone in the same room.”

“Well, I’m sure you missed my touch,” Blaise said, his arm wrapping around Jamie’s muscular body, sliding down to the two large globes that made up Jamie’s butt.

“Watch it,” Jamie growled, his own hand lowering down Blaise’s back. Blaise laughed and smirked at his boyfriend. “You really think you’ll be the one on top, Jamie?” he asked. “Poor Potter.”

“You bet I will be,” Jamie whispered. “I’m too strong and muscular to be the bottom, I mean look at you Blaise, you’re just a skinny Slytherin.”

“Even skinny Slytherins can carry big snakes,” Blaise said. “Big snakes that’ll hush even the most… hottest of heats.”

They both blushed and tried to laugh it off. When their faces resumed a more normal face color, Blaise asked “How’s Harry? I saw you two talking in class.”

“He’s strange,” Jamie said. “Last night and yesterday he looked as if he was ready to bite anyone’s heads off, but now he practically a giggling fop! We argued last night because he just looked so stressed out about something but he wouldn’t tell me. He kept telling me ‘I’m busy,’ ‘I’m busy,’ but now he’s humming to himself and kissing me again!”

“I missed you two kissing,” Blaise pouted. “Bad boys… you two. Draco and I should really make a rule about you two kissing.”

“Later,” Jamie said. “Now I’m just worried about Harry. There’s something that he and Draco are dealing with and he won’t tell me what it is. You wouldn’t know, would you?”

“Know what?” Blaise asked.

“What Draco and Harry are doing,” Jamie said.

“Me? Know,” Blaise lied. “I know nothing about what’s going on.” Jamie looked at him and the Slytherin gave him a convincing face. Jamie nodded and pulled the teen closer.

“Alright,” he said, convinced of Blaise’s lie. “At least that’s one worry off of my chest. Anyway, I really hope that Harry is going to be alright. He seems so off the last few weeks, it’s scary.”

“Don’t worry about him,” Blaise said. “Harry’s a big boy, and he has a bloody Malfoy looking after him. I doubt Draco would allow dust to touch Harry without permission. Anyway, we should really be thinking about what we’ll be wearing for tonight.”

“What do you mean?” Jamie asked.

“I mean at Slughorn’s party,” Blaise said. “I know we both don’t want to go there… but we might as well plan for what we’re going to wear to the party, and what we’re going to wear under.” Blaise gave Jamie a lewd smirk as his hand squeezed Jamie’s huge muscular butt.

“You seem excited,” Jamie chuckled.

“We’re going to be away from each other all winter break,” Blaise said, his hand still firmly grasping Jamie’s backside. “I want to make sure to leave my mark on you Jamie. Make that heat of yours remember whose you are.”

“Oh I don’t know,” Jamie breathed. “I seem to belong to many people… I wonder who should be at the top of the list, you or Harry?—Ow!” Blaise squeezed roughly and slapped his ass.

“You both know you’re both my boys in the end,” Blaise whispered. “While I love you both, Harry’s more like a little brother.”

“You really shouldn’t talk to me about loving your little brother,” Jamie said.

“Anyway, just make sure to wear something… nice under your dress robes,” Blaise said. “Something green. I’ll be doing the same, of course.”

“Only if you wear something red and gold,” Jamie smirked, squeezing Blaise’s ass roughly. Their hands moved to a more appropriate place and they spoke no more of it.

Both Harry and Jamie left dinner early to change for Slughorn’s party. They both had a slight grimace on their faces as they changed. Harry opted for a simple dark purple shirt and tie and a dress robe over it while Jamie stood in his bed with the curtains closed. Harry just stood and waited as he heard his brother fumble with whatever clothing he was wearing, falling twice on the bed, before the curtains opened again to reveal the muscular stud standing in a form-fitting shirt, his sleeves folded to his fore-arms and a tie hanging perfectly between his two pecs. Harry just stared at him for a moment before silently walking to his brother and hugging him, resting his head on Jamie’s chest. Jamie hugged him and kissed the top of Harry’s head. “Missed this,” he said.

“Me too,” Harry said. “I’m… sorry Jamie. For everything.”

“You don’t need to apologize to me Harry, you’re my brother, I love you,” Jamie said. He lifted Harry’s head up gently by his chin, and smiled down at him, kissing his forehead.

“Jamie? Before we go… can I ask you for something?” Harry asked in a hushed, tender voice.

“What is it? You know I’ll do anything for you, right?” Jamie whispered.

“I know… I want you to kiss me Jamie,” Harry said. “Not on my forehead or on my cheek. On my lips. Kiss me Jamie, please,” Harry pleaded.

In that moment he looked so small, so fragile, so submissive. He looked like a small child asking his father for a hug to make sure that the monsters under his bed wouldn’t get him at night. Harry looked in that moment to be purity and innocence incarnate; he was everything that Jamie spent his whole life protecting, his whole life loving. Which is why the muscular teen nodded and bent down gently, both boys closing their eyes in bliss as their lips met. Their noses pressed perfectly together as the two same faces pressed together, glasses clinking lightly as if one face was pressed against the mirror. The boys lost themselves, their heats blazing like a roaring fire and submitting to the taboo brotherly love. There was a small moan between the two brothers that neither of them knew who started it. They stood there kissing, their faces pressed perfectly together and lips curled upright as both of them smile. Jamie held his innocence tight to him, feeling the weight of the smaller boy against him as they began to fell on Jamie’s bed.

When they fully collapsed on Jamie’s bed, Harry’s body was fully on Jamie. They moved apart slightly and opened their eyes, emerald green meeting topaz brown; both eyes were dilated and filled with a love that was at the same time forbidden and something that their Slytherin lovers would never reach or know. Silently they moved from the bed satisfied with a passion that they always flirted with but never discussed, and in equal silence they slipped hand in hand to leave the dormitory and towards the other two boys they love.

When they arrived in the entrance hall at eight o’clock that night, they found an unusually large number of girls lurking there, all of whom seemed to be staring at them resentfully. Draco and Blaise both walked up the stairs to the dungeons and towards their Potter. Draco was wearing a black vest under which was a silver button down shirt and tie and black trousers. His platinum blonde hair was slick back, and his eyes seemed to shine with a sort of victorious gleam as he stared at Harry. Blaise on the other hand seemed to think to showcase every asset he has, wearing slim form fitting clothes that left little to the imagination. He looked lewd yet perfectly proper at the same time and Jamie couldn’t help but swallow heavily as Blaise’s eyes met his like a predator eyeing his prey.

“Hello boys,” Blaise said when they reached the twins. “You both look as handsome as ever.”

“Thanks Blaise,” Harry said. “You look… wow.”

Blaise smirked and took Jamie’s hand from Harry. “Well, shall we?”

Draco took Harry’s hand and the two couples started walking, Blaise leading to the marble staircase, and away from all the staring and muttering. “Where is this party anyway?” Draco drawled.

“Slughorn’s office,” Harry said. “Did you hear, there’s supposed to be a vampire coming?”

“Really?” Draco said. “I never met a person more blood-sucking than my father.”

Harry laughed and brushed up against Draco, making sure that the side of his body pressed against the Slytherin so he could feel the concealed book. Harry just smiled and wink when Draco looked at him.

They were already approaching Slughorn’s office and the sounds of laughter, music, and loud conversation were growing louder with every step they took. Whether it had been built that way, or because he had used magical trickery to make it so, Slughorn’s office was much larger than the usual teacher’s study. The ceiling and walls had been draped with emerald, crimson, and gold hangings, so that it looked as though they were all inside a vast tent. The room was crowded and stuffy and bathed in the red light cast by an ornate golden lamp dangling from the center of the ceiling in which real fairies were fluttering each a brilliant speck of light. Loud singing accompanied by what sounded like mandolins issued from a distant corner; a haze of pipe smoke hung over several elderly warlocks deep in conversation, and a number of house-elves were negotiating their way squeakily through the forest of knees, obscured by the heavy silver platters of food they were bearing, so that they looked like roving tables.

“Harry and Jamie m’boys!” boomed Slughorn, almost as the four had squeezed in through the door. “Come in, come in, so many people I’d like you two to meet! And Blaise! Nice to see you, nice to see you—dashing all of you! Now that only leaves Cormac to show and the whole lot will be here.”

Slughorn was wearing a tasseled velvet hat to match his smoking jacket. Gripping Harry’s arm so tightly he might have been hoping to Disapparate with him, Slughorn led him purposefully into the party; Harry seized Jamie’s hand and dragged him along with him while Draco and Blaise played catch up.

“Harry, Jamie, I’d like you to meet Eldred Worple, an old student of mine, author of Blood Brothers: My Life Amongst the Vampires—and, of course, his friend Sanguini.”

Worple, who was a small, stout, bespectacled man, grabbed both twins’ hands and shook them enthusiastically; the vampire Sanguini, who was tall and emaciated with dark shadows under his eyes merely nodded. He looked rather bored. A gaggle of girls was standing close to him, looking curious and excited. His nosed hitched and stared at the two twins curiously as Worple said, “Harry and Jamie Potter, I am simply delighted! I was saying to Professor Slughorn only the other day, ‘Where is the biography of The Potter Twins for which we have all been waiting?’”

“Have you?” Jamie asked. Harry couldn’t help but stare at the vampire, who was looking at the two boys with a strange hunger.

“Just as modest as Horace described!” Worple said. “But seriously”—his manner changed’ it became suddenly businesslike—“I would be delighted to write it myself—people are craving to know more about you two, boys, craving! If you were prepared to grant me a few interviews, say in four-or five-hour sessions, why, we could have the book finished within months. And all with very little effort on either of your parts, I assure you—ask Sanguini here if it isn’t quite—”

The vampire stared down at the two and said simply, “You two smell like heated brood. You reek of it.”

“Umm…” Harry said, both boys blushing.

“We’ve just seen a friend of ours, sorry,” Jamie said. He made sure that Blaise and Draco were nearby and he grabbed both Blaise’s and Harry’s hand (Draco taking Harry’s other one) and pulled them into the crowd; he had indeed just seen a long mane of brown hair disappear between what looked like two members of the Weird Sisters.

“How did he know?” Harry whispered as Jamie said, “Hermione! Hermione!”

“Jamie, Harry, there you two are! –Zabini… Malfoy,” she said.

“Where’s Ginny?” Jamie asked.

“She’s over there somewhere,” Hermione pointed to a crowd. “She saw the Weird Sisters and umm… went running.”

“Funny,” Jamie said with a small smile. “We’ve just escape Slughorn.”

“What’s he doing to you two?” Hermione asked.

“Showing us off like polished trophies,” Harry said. He looked around and said, “Let’s go over there, it seems less crowded.”

The five of them made their way over to the other side of the room, scooping up goblets of mead on the way, realizing too late that Professor Trelawney was standing there alone. Harry pulled Draco away from the Professor as she started an awkward conversation with the other three. “Look at this,” he whispered, opening his dress robes. He reached into a concealed pocket and pulled out his latest journal. “I’ve looked at a book last night,” he said. “It’s all here, every single page words and all.”

“You think this will help us?”

“It was in Dumbledore’s office, I think it will definitely help us,” Harry smirked as he pushed his journal deep into his pocket again.

“Harry bloody Potter,” Draco said. “With your permission, I would kiss you right now.”

Harry blushed and nodded. Before he knew what happened, he was pressed against Draco’s body, the Slytherin’s lips on his already full lips from kissing Jamie. This was a different kiss than his kiss with Jamie where his brother was a taboo pleasure, Draco was like a dominating fire that promised to consume Harry. Unfortunately for Harry, Draco pulled away before the burning passionate fires could lay an ember on him as they were forcefully pulled into the others’ conversation.

“…But why have you not returned in Divination? For you, of all people Jamie, the subject is of the utmost importance!”

“Ah, Sybill, we all think our subject’s the most important!” said a loud voice, and Slughorn appeared at Professor Trelawney’s other side, his face very red, his velvet a little askew, a glass of mead in one hand and an enormous mince pie in the other.

Hermione looked into the crowd, and muttering a quick “Oh thank God,” ran off to her girlfriend before Slughorn could continue talking.

“But I don’t think I’ve ever known such a natural at Potions! And two of them at that!” Slughorn said, regarding Harry and Jamie with a fond, if bloodshot, eye. “Instinctive, you know—like their mother! I’ve only ever taught a few with this kind of ability, I can tell you that, Sybill—why even Severus—”

And to Harry’s and Jamie’s horror, Slughorn threw out an arm and seemed to scoop Snape out of thin air toward them.

“Stop sulking and come and join us, Severus!” Slughorn hiccuped happily. “I was just talking about Harry and Jamie’s exceptional potion-making! Some credit must go to you, of course, you taught them for five years!”

Trapped with Slughorn’s arm around his shoulders, Snape looked down his hooked nose at harry, his black eyes narrowed. “Funny, I never had the impression that I managed to teach Potter anything at all.”

“Well, then, it’s natural ability!” Slughorn shouted. “You should have seen what he gave me, first lesson, Draught of the Living Death—never had a student produce finer on a first attempt, I don’t think even you, Severus—”

“Really?” Snape said quietly, his eyes still boring into Harry, who felt a certain disquiet. The last thing he wanted was for Snape to start investigating the source of his newfound brilliance at Potions.

“Remind me what other subjects you’re taking, boys?” Slughorn asked.

Jamie answered, “Defense Against the Dark Arts, Charms, Transfiguration, Herbology…”

“All the subjects required, in short, for an Auror,” Snape said with the faintest sneer.

“Yeah, that’s what I want to do,” Jamie said defiantly.

“And I’m going to be a Healer,” Harry said in the same defiant voice. “Sir.” He added as an afterthought.

“And what great ones you’ll make too!” Slughorn boomed. “Why I have both Auror and Healer friends that you two must meet immediately!” He let go of Snape and turned to the crowd, “If you both will wait here for a moment!” he said before disappearing.

Snape just looked at Draco and Blaise and said, “Malfoy… Zabini. I see that you’ve decided to accompany yourselves with… troublesome crowds. Your parents would be shocked, especially yours, Malfoy.”

Draco shrugged and wrapped a possessive arm around Harry while Blaise did the same to Jamie. They both said nothing to Snape as Blaise turned to Jamie and said, “Let’s go before Slughorn comes back with the entire Auror Department for you.” Jamie laughed and left with Blaise.

Harry turned to Draco and said, “Come on, seems like the perfect time to show you the thing I told you about.” He dragged Draco out of the office and down the corridor in a random direction. The two walked for about five minutes, Harry wanting to make sure that they were well away from Slughorn’s office, before they stopped in a random classroom. Draco locked the door behind them and Harry pulled out his journal.

“Well? What was the book?” Draco asked.

“I’m sorry for not letting you help!” Harry blurted out. “You were right… you should have helped me look from the start. It’s just that—”

“You don’t need to explain yourself lo—Harry,” Draco said, catching himself. “I’m here now, and I’m always going to be here for you. So what do you say? Can we look for the answer together?”

“Yeah,” Harry said. “And I’m sorry… it doesn’t look like we’ll be able to do this before Christmas.”

Draco stared at Harry for a moment before laughing, remembering his statement from earlier. “It’s alright,” he laughed. “We’ll just have to make sure it’s done before Valentine’s Day, since New Year’s is too close.”

Harry smiled and nodded. He opened his journal to the last filled page and pressed his wand against the page. The memory showed itself, and Harry stopped it at the title of the text. Draco moved to sit down directly next to him, Harry placed the open journal on the teacher’s desk in front of them, and Draco read the title out loud, “’Secrets of the Darkest Art’ huh? Seems like the obvious place to look in.”

Harry nodded and moved his wand. The memory played until the first page of the first chapter appeared and they both started to read.

Jamie and Blaise, meanwhile, found themselves at the Room of Requirement. The room was small this time, a four-poster single king-sized bed sat in the middle, light pouring in from the windows and the fireplace on the wall. The bed’s curtains were tied to the posters, looking very inviting. Blaise pulled Jamie in and smirked as the door closed behind them. “Right now Potter, strip,” he commanded, taking off his own clothes.

Jamie stared at him for a moment before obeying. Under his clothes, Blaise had on a leather vest-like thing that went to the very tip of his stomach, only resting against his chest and open so that the edges of the leather barely brushed his hard, perked dark nipples. His body had a lean masculinity to it, hairless and taunt as Jamie’s eyes went from the leather vest down to the tight black and red leather pants that looked more like a speedo than pants. It only hugged his crotch and ass, leaving his legs completely bare. There was an open hole where his dick laid flaccid. Jamie couldn’t help but swallow at the sight of Blaise’s dick. Even flaccid it was big and thick, like the size of Blaise’s wrist. Blaise smirked when he noticed Jamie just staring. “I love leather,” he said. “The feel of it… the smell of it… what you’ll look like completely covered by it. Oh yes Jamie, my boy, before I’m done with you I’ll make sure that you’re obsessed with leather as I am. Now, be a good boy… and strip.”

Something sparked in Jamie and he practically threw his outer clothes off, revealing the dark-green jockstrap he was wearing. His hardening cock pushing against the confide and leaving a dark mark. His chest moved with every breath he made, his muscles flexed in nervous anticipation as the air around the room seemed to change. The heat inside him caused the boy to groan lightly as it grew, his hole clenching. Blaise smirked in appreciation as he eyed Jamie up and down like a piece of meat—very muscular, handsome, and sexy meat. “Just the jockstrap?” he asked. “It’s a first step.”

“Harry has more,” Jamie said, trying to reclaim any bit of power. “I buy these clothes for Harry mostly, not me.”

“Oh? And what does Harry have?” Blaise asked. He stopped behind Jamie and pushed against him, his flaccid cock resting between Jamie’s large globes of muscled ass. Blaise reached around Jamie’s chest and reached for his throat. “Does he have a collar?” he breathed in Jamie’s ear.

“No,” Jamie whimper.

A long finger traced from Jamie’s neck before resting on his chest. “Any jewelry?”

“Necklaces,” Jamie breathed. “Shirts that hugs to his skin.”

“Mmm… “ Blaise said. “Low-cut shirts that barely covers his chest?”

“Y-Yeah,” Jamie said as Blaise’s hand moved towards one of his nipples and started twisting it between his thumb and pointer. “Shirts that pushes his chest… makes them look bigger? Feminine?”

“Y-yes,” Jamie said, his voice hitch.

Blaise’s hand moved down again, tracing and playing with Jamie’s abs as he asked, “Shirts that bare his stomach to the world?”

“Mm-hmm,” Jamie nodded. Blaise’s second hand snaked up his body and grabbed him by the throat again, his finger brushing Jamie’s chin. Again the first hand moved and rested on Jamie’s jockstrap. “And the legs? What does Harry wear?”

“S-stockings,” Jamie said. “A-and tight jeans.”

“Is he a good boy in them?”

“I—”

“Is he a good boy in them? Dressing in those clothes?” Blaise asked, his grip tightening very subtly.

“Yes,” Jamie said. “Harry’s a very good boy.” His cock was painfully pushing against his jockstrap.

“Then…” Blaise breathed, licking Jamie’s ear, “then you will have to be a better boy. Will you do that Jamie? Will you be my good boy?”

Jamie nodded quickly, the heat inside of him practically melting his bones as he relaxed under Blaise’s touch. Blaise smiled and bit Jamie’s ear. “Great,” he said. “See Jamie? Let all those silly thoughts of you topping out of your head… your heat knows who’s really in charge, doesn’t it.”

Jamie groaned as Blaise pressed his hardening cock against his ass once more. Blaise gently pushed Jamie down, guiding the muscled boy to his knees. “Here is what is going to happen tonight,” Blaise said. “You are going to suck my cock, get it nice and hard, and when I’m hard, you’re going to crawl to the bed and present that lovely ass to me. I’m going to stretch you real good baby, and you’re going to take each and every inch of my cock in your ass. Does that son good, Jamie?”

Jamie groaned and nodded, “Yeah,” he breathed.

“Good. Get to sucking—but first,” Blaise pulled out his wand and pressed it against Jamie’s jockstrap, transfiguring it into a leather jockstrap with a small hole for his cock to finally release itself from its confine. Jamie groaned at the change, the cold leather a completely different sensation of his jockstrap. He wanted to touch himself in relief but Blaise stopped him, slapping his hand. “No, no, no,” he said. “You’re only touching one cock tonight Jamie boy.”

He stood in front of Jamie, a towering figure that oozed sexual power and dominance naturally. His flaccid eight in cock resting against a pair of balls the size of small tennis balls and the leather speedo Blaise was wearing. Jamie pressed his face against the cock, breathing in the musky scent mixed with the leather. His mind felt intoxicated as he breathed it in again, his nose buried in the point where the hole began and black pubic hairs poked out. Blaise’s hand found itself in Jamie’s hair and he gently pushed him against the cock. “Go ahead Jamie boy, kiss it.”

Jamie did so, kissing the base and moving down the hot piece of flesh until he reached the fat mushroom head which he kissed twice as it jerked towards his mouth. “Good… show my balls some love too,” Blaise whispered and Jamie kissed Blaise’s hardening cock one last time before pressing against Blaise’s balls, his cock sliding up Jamie’s face and starting to leave pre-cum in his hair. “That’s it… good Potter,” Blaise muttered as Jamie kissed and licked Blaise’s hairy balls, again getting intoxicated by the musky, masculine smell. “Good… now start sucking,” Blaise commanded and Jamie returned to the fat mushroom head of Blaise’s cock. He gave it a lick and opened his mouth as wide as he could. Already his lips were getting stretched and his jaw ached as he swallowed in quick succession to keep the spittle from flooding his mouth. Blaise calmed him, gently petting his hair as he guided Jamie. Soon the entire head of Blaise’s cock was inside Jamie’s mouth. His lips were stretched and his jaw ached as he kept his mouth open wide.

“Just so you know,” Blaise said. “When I’m fully hard… I easily beat twelve inches… and I’m five inches thick. But don’t worry, we’ll train your mouth and throat gradually.”

Jamie groaned both in lust and sheer fright of Blaise’s full size. His mouth was already aching and only the mushroom head was in! Blaise started pushing in, and Jamie quickly figured out that he needed to breathe through his nose, which only got him to smell the leathery musk again. His tongue rested against the underside of Blaise’s cock licking and caressing the cock as it moved into his mouth. “That’s it… breathe,” Blaise groaned. “We’re going to turn you into a good cocksucker yet. Good boy, Jamie.”

Jamie swallowed and reached for Blaise’s cock. He gave a stroke to the majority that he couldn’t fit in his mouth and started to move in unison with his mouth. Blaise’s moaned encouraged the Potter as he moved his mouth up and down the first three inches of Blaise’s cock, the head always in as his hands worked on the rest. Slowly the cock awoke to life, filling with blood as it got bigger and harder. Jamie felt as if his mouth was being stretched even further as he swallowed the fourth inch. Blaise’s hands were now roughly grabbing Jamie’s hair, moaning and swearing fully as his cock got harder and harder. “Fuck Jamie! Fucking suck that cock—fuck yes suck that Slytherin cock you lion!”

Jamie growled like a lion, his voice reverberating around Blaise’s cock. “Fuck yeah—I’ve decided you’re going to be my lion boy. Yeah—you’re my lion and I’m your fucking trainer—damn!” Blaise groaned. Getting extremely turned on my Blaise’s words, Jamie moved farther down Blaise’s cock, swallowing inch by inch before choking on half of Blaise’s immensely huge and thick dick. “Good kitty, purr for me lion,” Blaise groaned. Jamie made a sound around Blaise’s cock which got him moaning even more.

Jamie’s cock was painfully hard during this, his pre-cum dripping to the floor in a small puddle. Both boys didn’t notice as Blaise’s pre-cum started to flood Jamie’s mouth, oozing out the corners of Jamie’s mouth and dripping down his face before joining Jamie’s pre-cum or falling onto his painfully hard cock. Without warning, Blaise pulled out of Jamie’s mouth, bruising Jamie’s lips but neither boy cared at the moment. Blaise smiled down at Jamie and noticed the pre-cum. “Look at all the milk we’ve spilled, my pretty lion,” he said pointing down to the puddle. “Good lion-boys don’t leave a mess now Jamie,” he said. “Lick it clean. The floor’s safe, I promise.”

Without even hesitating to argue, Jamie got on all fours and bent down, his ass up in the air, and he licked the puddle of pre-cum up, lapping at it as he scoped tongue-full after tongue-full into his mouth and swallowing it. It was the most erotic tasting thing, his cum mixed with Blaise’s to a point that you couldn’t tell which is which. He continued to lap and clean the puddle as Blaise moved around Jamie again and looked down at his prize. Two pale muscular globes the size of dinner plates stared back at Blaise, stretched because of Jamie’s position, and revealing a pink puckered hole gasping for need and surrounded by faint black hairs. Blaise smirked and smacked Jamie’s ass. “A nice hairy ass, perfect for my lion,” he said. “Did you drink all your milk, Jamie?”

“Yes, Blaise,” Jamie said.

“Good. Now pounce onto the bed like a good lion so I can have a proper look at you,” Blaise commanded. Staying on all fours, Jamie crawled towards the bed, his ass swaying gently as Blaise stared at it. I’m sure there are some lion toys that I can find, he thought to himself. He watched impressed as Jamie did jump onto the bed like a lion or cat would and he stayed on all fours, waiting in the center of the bed for the next command. Blaise climbed onto the bed and knelt before Jamie’s backside, the Gryffindor’s legs spread to welcome him. “Keep your head down and ass up, I’m going to need to stretch you,” Blaise said. “Accio lube,” he called out and a bottle came flying from nowhere towards them. Blaise caught it casually and opened the bottle.

Jamie rested his head on his arms and stuck his ass into the air. His cheeks naturally spread, and the Gryffindor groaned as Blaise poured some of the lube directly onto his hole, the excess running down his crack and onto his balls before dripping. The heat inside Jamie grew hotter and hotter as the anticipation grew. Blaise took his time coating his fingers in lube, making sure that they were completely drenched before reaching towards Jamie’s ass. The muscular boy took to mewling as he began to sweat, the heat spreading from his asshole to the rest of his body giving him a fever. “Please,” he begged. “Please Blaise, I need it.”

“You need it, huh?” Blaise smirked. He pressed his finger against Jamie’s hole and was surprised with the immediate welcome, his finger sliding in easy to the knuckle. “Interesting,” Blaise said. “Did you feel that, my lion? Your hole opened immediately for my finger. It wants to be fucked by me almost as much as you do. I wonder… how ready will it accept two fingers?”

Blaise pulled his first finger out and pressed it together with the second. Again he pressed it against Jamie’s needy hole and it opened for him, the hot ass pressing tight against the two fingers. “What a greedy little hole you have, Jamie,” Blaise breathed. “It’s almost like I don’t need to stretch you for my cock. But I think I’ll have my fun for a bit.” He curled the two fingers and Jamie groaned. Blaise moved his fingers, scissoring them and curling them together, all his actions earned him a moan or a groan from the muscled teen underneath him. Blaise added his third finger and started to rapidly moving his fingers in and out of Jamie’s hole, fucking it roughly as it gotten looser and looser. “That it, open up for me boy,” Blaise said. “Good lion, good Jamie. Such a good boyfriend—such a good lion. Look at you, completely under my control.”

He was. Jamie was completely under Blaise’s control. He was a panting, sweating wretch whose dick was throbbing to cum. He could barely stay in that position, his legs weak and chest shaking rapidly as sweat and pre-cum stained the bedsheets. Finally, Blaise’s fingers hit one particular shot that made Jamie see stars. His ass clenched around the fingers as he gave a scream, his cock blasting cum out like a rocket onto the sheets. His mind went blank for a moment and he started to purr in satisfaction.

“There it is,” Blaise said victoriously. “I think you’re ready now Jamie, but first I want you to say it.”

Jamie snapped from his cum-filled dazed and said, “Say what?”

“Say ‘Please fuck your lion, Blaise, I need your cock,’” Blaise said, positioning his cock to rest at Jamie’s ass, the fat mushroom head barely kissing the hole.

Jamie moaned and said, “Please Blaise, please fuck your lion—I need your cock, sir!”

“If you insist,” Blaise said and he plunged fully into Jamie’s ass. His assumption was right and it greeted him greedily, opening just enough to let his cock in but still hold it with a tight possessive need. Both boys groaned as Jamie’s cock started to harden again as Blaise start moving. The Slytherin didn’t even build up the rhythm, instead opting to start brutal. His hips slammed against Jamie’s ass painfully as he fucked Jamie like a machine. The dark-skinned Slytherin leaned forward and pressed his body against Jamie’s, their sweat combining as the boy’s hips continue to piston against Jamie’s ass, his cock fucking deeper and deeper until Jamie felt like his entire being was being fucked by Blaise.

And he loved every second of it.

His muscles flexed and constricted, his brow sweat, his dick bounced helplessly between his legs and he was screaming out the lewdest of joys as Blaise destroyed his ass with his cock. Jamie was roaring out Blaise’s name over and over again like a religious chant that kept him connected to this world. Both boys fell towards the bed until Jamie was laying down completely and Blaise was still fucking him, Jamie’s ass cheeks squeezing against Blaise’s incredibly long and thick cock as well. Blaise pulled out completely and barked out, “Turn around,” his voice two octaves deeper than normal. Jamie did and wrapped his legs around Blaise’s waist as the teen slid in again. Blaise’s sweat was falling onto Jamie, the boy’s eyes locked to each other. In one quick move Blaise took off Jamie’s glasses and smashed his mouth against Jamie, rutting furiously into his hole. “Keep growling!” his hoarse voice commanded and Jamie growled and screamed as he continued to be fucked.

“Fuck-fuck—fuck yeah Jamie—fuck yeah you’re mine. You’re my lion, my boyfriend, my everything—fuck you’re so tight!” Blaise groaned.

“Yes! Yes! Your everything,” Jamie groaned. The animalistic sex continued on, both boys going at it: Blaise an alpha predator claiming his mate and Jamie the mate the heat. Their cocks throbbed harder and harder as release came closer and closer until in an act of animalistic instinct, Blaise bit down on Jamie’s neck screaming as he came inside the boy. Jamie let out an animalistic howl as for the first time in his life he felt completely full and satisfied, the hot feeling of Blaise’s cum deep inside him triggering his second orgasm which covered both his and Blaise’s chests.

They stayed there panting heavily as they rode the high together. Soon enough Blaise’s cock started to go soft and he pulled out, leaving Jamie’s ass exposed to the elements and strangely cold and empty. He gave a whine and moved immediately to clean Blaise’s cock and leather jock. Blaise chuckled and petted Jamie’s hair. “See Jamie? You don’t need to touch your cock anymore,” he said exhausted. “I can make you cum whenever we want.”

Jamie and looked up at Blaise and gave a small nod before curling around the Slytherin. “I think I love you,” he breathed sleepily.

“I think I love you too, my lion,” Blaise said as they both drifted off to a satisfied and peaceful sleep, laying in each other’s arms.

The night was cloudless. The stars in their multitude filling the darkness with order and light. The silent sentinels watched down as at the Astronomy Tower and a boy, almost friendless and depressed stared out, his eyes once full of confidence now empty of any emotion and glassy. How did this happen? Why did this happen? The bullying never stopped, not once. Soon others began it as well, people he didn’t even knew started pulling pranks at him and the roars of laughter filled the castle. But Harry never knew, no Harry never knew his pain or his cry for redemption. They made sure of it. His torture was a silent torture filled with thunderous laughter that never reached Harry’s ears, or Jamie’s or any of their friends. He knew that those snakes were behind it, it quickly became the widest known secret: Bully this teen for all you want, but make sure Harry and his friends never know. His torture, his anguish was a story that was never going to be told, because those disgusting snakes didn’t want to tell it. So now on the last day of class before Christmas break where he was set to return to a father who doesn’t love him and a mother who doesn’t help him, this boy is left with a single choice as he took a step closer to the edge, a choice that Harry will never know or hear of.

The stars stared down watching as the boy made his choice, knowing that his story and it’s ending will never be known to the boy he loved.

Chapter Text

Chapter 15

Jamie groaned the next morning. His leather jockstrap was hugging his body a bit too tightly, the piece of clothing squeaking awfully as Jamie moved. He looked at Blaise, who was still sleeping. “What time is it?” he groaned reaching for his glasses and wand. He casted a tempus spell only to see that they have two hours until the Hogwarts Express leaves for the Christmas holidays.

“Blaise… Blaise…. Get up!” Jamie yelled, shaking his boyfriend.

“What’s it?” Blaise grumbled. He groaned as he moved. “God… remind me to take off our clothes next time we sleep,” he groaned.

“I know,” Jamie said, getting out of the bed. “Come on! We have two hours till the train leaves.” They struggled to get out of their leather clothing for a bit before getting dressed in their dress robes from last night. When they were done, Jamie looked at Blaise and said, “Loved it, but next time I choose what we wear.”

“Fair enough… now give me a good-bye kiss,” Blaise smirked. Jamie grabbed the teen and pulled him close, kissing the Slytherin deeply.

Harry and Draco felt like they were getting closer to the answer, but it was still too far away. Last night they’ve read three chapters of the book hiding in Dumbledore’s office, and even though they’ve read about curses that made their enemies’ skin boil, spells that tore a man apart, and other horrible curses there was not one word or mention of immortality. Now standing at the entrance hall waiting for his twin, Harry wanted to do nothing else but open up his journal and resume reading. But it was too dangerous in the hall, surrounded by students. “Harry!” Draco called out. Harry turned and smiled at Draco. The Slytherin walked towards the smaller teen and wrapped his arms around the boy’s waist. “I just want to say Happy Christmas before you leave,” Draco whispered. “Blaise and I are spending Christmas here.”

“Oh, okay,” Harry said. He wrapped his arms around Draco. For some reason he felt like he can just be himself around Draco, that any hesitations or second-thoughts didn’t exist once he and Draco touch or talk. “Does that mean I get a Christmas kiss?” he asked.

Draco smirked. “With your permission, and if there was no one else here I would do so much more, lo—Harry,” he said.

“You can call me that,” Harry said. “’love.’ You can call me that.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah… I’m sure,” Harry said, smiling.

“Whatever you say, love,” Draco smiled. They leaned forward and kissed. It seemed so natural to Harry at this point, their lips pressing against each other, their eyes closing and arms holding onto each other; Draco’s hands pressed on the small of Harry’s back while Harry’s spread out on Draco’s. Harry didn’t know who opened their mouths first but soon their tongues were pushing against each other, teasing each other with perverted flicks and wishes. Then Draco stepped away smirking. “Something to look forward to,” he winked.

“Git,” Harry muttered.

“Yes, but this git loves you, Harry,” Draco said.

“I love you too,” Harry said. He kissed Draco again and bit his bottom lip. “Something to look forward to,” he said with a smirk.

Draco chuckled and shook his head. “How I am going to survive the holiday, I don’t know,” he said.

“Don’t worry, you’ll be fine… and I’ll be sending you letters,” Harry said. “Especially when I find out about you-know-what.”

“You better,” Draco whispered. They stared at each other for a moment and moved to kiss again only to be interrupted by Jamie.

“Come on Harry, we have to go,” he said.

Harry sighed. “I’ll see you in New Years, Draco.”

“Goodbye, my love.” They kissed one final time, a kiss that was too quick for either of them, and Harry hurried to follow his brother.

“So you two left Slughorn’s early but didn’t come back?”

“If you ask us one more time…” Jamie grumbled.

“And quit looking at us like that,” Harry said. “Nothing perverted happened!” They were standing alone at the Burrow’s kitchen sink, peeling a mountain of sprouts for Mrs. Weasley. Snow was drifting past the window in front of them.

“Sure it didn’t,” Ron said.

“Where’s Colin? I thought you would try and bring him over here,” Jamie said trying to change the subject.

“I didn’t tell Mum or Dad about him yet,” Ron said.

“Tell Mum what?” Fred’s voice said as the twins entered the kitchen.

“Aaah, George, look at this. They’re using knives and everything. Bless them.”

“I’m more interested in what little Ronnikins didn’t tell Mum or Dad,” George said.

“I’ll be seventeen in two and a bit months’ time,” Ron said grumpily, “and then I’ll be able to do it by magic!”

“But meanwhile,” George said, sitting down at the kitchen table and putting his feet up on it, “we can enjoy watching you demonstrate the correct use of a—whoops-a-daisy!”

“You made me do that!” Ron said angrily, sucking his cut them. “You wait, when I’m seventeen—”

“I’m sure you’ll dazzle us all with hitherto unsuspected magical skills,” Fred yawned.

“And speaking of hitherto unsuspected skills, Ronald,” George said, what is this we hear from Ginny about you and a young man called—unless our information is faulty—Colin Creevey?”

Ron turned a little pink, but did not look displeased as he turned back to the sprouts. “Mind your own business.”

Harry slapped his bleeding thumb away before it could touch the knife and pulled, a bit roughly, Ron’s entire arm towards him so he could bandage it.

“What a snappy retort,” Fred said. “I really don’t know how you think of them. No, what we wanted to know was… how did it happen?”

“What d’you mean?”

“Did he have an accident or something?”

“What?”

“Well, how did he sustain such extensive brain damage! Careful, now!”

Mrs. Weasley entered the room just in time to see Ron snatch his arm from Harry and throw the sprout knife at Fred, who had turned it into a paper airplane with one lazy flick of his wand.

“Ron!” she said furiously. “Don’t you ever let me see you throwing knives again!”

“I won’t,” Ron said, “let you see,” he added under his breath as Harry yanked his arm back to finish bandaging it.

“Fred, George, I’m sorry, dears, but Remus is arriving tonight so Bill will have to squeeze in with you two.”

“No problem,” George said.

“Then, as Charlie isn’t coming home, that just leaves Harry, Jamie and Ron in the attic, and if Fleur shares with Ginny—”

“—that’ll make Ginny’s’ Christmas—” Fred muttered.

“—everyone should be comfortable. Well, they’ll have a bed, anyway,” Mrs. Weasley said, sounding slightly harassed.

“Percy definitely not showing his ugly face, then?” Fred asked.

Mrs. Weasley turned away before she answered. “No, he’s busy, I expect, at the Ministry.”

“Or he’s the world’s biggest prat,’ Fred said, as Mrs. Weasley left the kitchen. “One of the two. Well, let’s get going, then, George.”

“What are you two up to?” Ron asked. Harry finished bandaging his thumb and hit him on the shoulder. “Can’t you help us with these sprouts? You could just use your wand and then we’ll be free too!”

“No, I don’t think we can do that,” Fred said seriously. “It’s very character-building stuff, learning to peel sprouts without magic, makes you appreciate how difficult it is for Muggles and Squibs—”

“—and if you want people to help you, Ron,” George added, throwing the paper airplane at him, “I wouldn’t chuck knives at them. Just a little hint. We’re off to the village, there’s a very pretty girl working in the paper shop who thinks my card tricks are something marvelous…almost like real magic…”

“And she promised to bring her brother along. Bless them,” Fred smiled.

“Gits,” Ron said darkly, watching Fred and George setting off across the snowy yard. “If they talk about my pup like that again I’ll…”

“Probably do something to lose a finger,” Harry sighed. “And I haven’t learned how to reattach limbs yet, so don’t do it.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ron muttered. “Whatever you say, Nurse Harry.”

“You know, I should probably see about getting you a nice Nurse uniform,” Jamie smirked. “You could bandage me up after—watch it!” Harry threw a sprout at his brother, which barely missed his head.

“Don’t,” was all Harry said before turning his attention back to peeling the sprouts. He ignored the two muscled brutes on either side of him as they whispered behind his back. He wanted to finish this as fast as he could. He wanted to return to his journal and continue reading. He transfigured the cover so that it would look like any non-descriptive book cover and not its usual leather-bound, and hoped that that would be enough to satisfied any nosy occupants who would want to look into his book. He felt that he was so close he could taste it.

As soon as they were done, Harry ran up to the attic and pulled his journal from under the bed. He opened to the pages where he kept the memory of Owle Bullock’s book and started to read where he left off, tapping his wand to turn the page. It was Christmas Eve when he found something interesting. The chapter was titled Horcrux and there was a drawn picture of a wizard with what seemed to be a fractured circle inside of him, the section of the circle that broke off was outside of the wizard’s body and entering something that looked like a necklace.

He then read, “Horcruxes are tools that enable the maker to become immortal. By the tearing and separation of the caster’s soul, the caster is rendered immortal from any lethal blows and spells. The first known Dark Wizard to use a Horcrux was Herpo the Foul, the ancient Greek Dark Wizard whose spells and works still affect and inspire us to this day.”

Harry stopped reading. His eyes bulged with excitement. He read the small introduction again and smiled to himself. He found it! He dove back into the book and continued reading, never moving from his seat until it was time for dinner. Mrs. Weasley walked into the small corner he was sitting in and said, “Harry dear, dinner is ready. If you could finish your page and join us?”

“Yes Mrs. Weasley,” Harry said looking up. He felt slightly sick but also extremely pleased with himself. He just finished reading the precise directions on how to make a Horcrux. He felt sick reading it, but intellectually curious and satisfied. He wanted to learn more about Horcruxes, learn more about their creation, their history, what was Herpo the Foul’s Horcrux and how did he die? Harry was heavily invested in the book and, but the small snippet of the paragraph that began at the bottom page, seemed to be on the edge of answering all his curious questions. But before that, dinner, and after, he needed to write a couple of letters.

The Weasleys and their guests were sitting in the living room, which Ginny had decorated so lavishly that it was rather like sitting in a paper-chain explosion. Fred, George, Harry, Jamie, and Ron were the only ones who knew that the angel on top of the tree was actually a garden gnome that had bitten Fred on the ankle as he pulled up carrots for Christmas dinner. Stupefied, painted gold, stuffed into a miniature tutu and with small wings glued to its back, it glowered down at them all, the ugliest angel Harry had ever seen.

They were all supposed to be listening to a Christmas broadcast by Mrs. Weasley’s favorite singer, Celestina Warbeck, whose voice was warbling out of the large wooden wireless set. Fleur, who seemed to find Celestina very dull, was talking so loudly in the corner that a scowling Mrs. Weasley kept pointing her wand at the volume control, so that Celestina grew louder and louder. Fred and George started a game of Exploding Snape with Ginny. Ron kept shooting Bill and Fleur covert looks, as though hoping to pick up tips. Meanwhile, Remus Lupin, who was thinner and more ragged-looking than ever, was sitting beside the fire, staring into its depths as though he could not hear Celestina’s voice.

Harry was in his small corner writing two letters. He felt bold writing to Voldemort in front of everyone, but nobody looked closely to him to see what he was writing. Only Fred noticed and teased, “Writing to your boyfriend, Harry?”

“Yes I am,” Harry said looking up.

The word boyfriend seemed to have gotten Mrs. Weasley’s attention. “Boyfriend? What do you mean boyfriend?” she asked.

“Harry’s got a boyfriend,” Fred said cheekily. “Along with Jamie.”

“And Ron,” George said, laughing as Ron punched his shoulder.

“Really? Since when?” Mrs. Weasley asked, giving each boy a critical gaze.

Harry and Jamie stammered while Ron’s face turned completely red. It was Ron surprisingly who talked first, “September,” he said. “For all of us… I think… I’m uh dating a guy named Colin Creevey.”

“Creevey?”

“He’s in my year,” Ginny said. “Small guy, always has his camera with him. He used to be a huge fan of Harry till Ron snatched him.”

“Ronald Weasley! Why haven’t you told me earlier?” Mrs. Weasley demanded. “I need to meet with him—oh you better not have told him anything bad about me or else—and you two? Why haven’t you told me either?”

Harry and Jamie shared a guilty, sorry look. “We were umm… busy?” Harry tried.

“Yeah, busy sucking faces,” George snickered. “Ow!” Ron punched his shoulder again.

“We’re both dating… guys who aren’t comfortable being out yet,” Jamie lied.

“Oh…oh alright then,” Mrs. Weasley nodded understandingly. “Such a pity then, to be in a world like this,” she muttered to no one in particular before listening to her music and knitting. “Maybe I can finish one more before bed,” she said.

Harry turned back to his letter, ignoring everyone else.

To the Dark Lord,

I am sorry for your delay, but I have finished your task. I now know how you have become immortal. Horcruxes. You have made a Horcrux, or perhaps more than a singular Horcrux which holds a piece of your soul. I am guessing that the diary I have destroyed in my second year, the diary that inspired me to create my own journals, was one such Horcrux. Due to the extremely young age the phantom of Tom Riddle looked, I believe that the Diary was the first.

I have reasons to believe that your horcruxes are what Dumbledore is looking for. He has the book which I used to find the information, Owle Bullock’s Secrets of the Darkest Art locked away in his office. However due to my journals’ ability to be a portable Pensieve, I was able to record the entirety of the book by simply convincing Dumbledore to look at it together and slowly go through the text page by page until I have seen the entirety of it. Then I simply placed the memory into my journal and replay the memory anytime I choose to read the book, using my wand to turn the page as the memory plays forward.

More importantly I have read the instructions of making a Horcrux and found it immensely fascinating! Though there have been many warnings against making a Horcrux, the history of its creation as well as its various uses turns my mind with various theories and thoughts that I cannot wait to prove true. I was not lying, my Lord, when I told you of my interest and obsession with the Dark Arts. Just reading it taints my soul with its addictive secrets that remain just out of reach, and I want to create a world where I can plunge myself in the Arts and drown to its Darkest depths. I want to know everything I can in order to be your successor, in order to become the most powerful wizard that I can become.

I hope this letter convinces you, my Lord.

Your faithful servant,

Harry Fleamont Potter

Harry quickly found that it was much easier to lie, and make the lie believable, if he suffocates it with truths, which he did in that letter. Satisfied with it, and positive that it will meet and stroke Voldemort’s ego, he folded the letter in thirds and hid it under his leg as he began his letter to Draco.

Dear Draco,

I found it! I found out how Voldemort became immortal! I was right, it was in Bullock’s book. The answer is Horcruxes. These objects enchanted with the darkest arts to hold a fragment of your soul. Voldemort has separated his soul into these Horcruxes and thus obtained immortality. It is how he lived all these years.

I’ve just finished a letter to Voldemort, it will be attached to yours, I want you to use an owl, any owl, that isn’t Hedwig and have it deliver the letter. At this rate it will be only a matter of time until we can convince Voldemort to come to Hogwarts and he and Dumbledore will kill each other. As for his Horcruxes, I am sure that he has them well hidden. If possible I would want to obtain his memories before he dies. They will lead me to the Horcruxes and I’ll be able to study them more deeply. This is fascinating stuff Draco. Dangerous, very dangerous, but totally fascinating. Just think: If it is possible to separate a soul, it should be possible to reattach it. Or maybe even transfer the soul entirely back into a human body if the Dementor’s Kiss has been performed. If I can be as lewd as my brother, he would claim that I am getting a boner over all of this theoretical stuff, but just think of it Draco! We can save so many lives with this information!

Sorry… I think I might have rambled on. Anyway, I hope you and Blaise enjoy your Christmases. I’m always thinking of you Draco and missing your every touch. My heat and heart are flaming and aching to feel you again.

Love,

Harry

Harry folded his letter to Draco over his letter to Voldemort and stood up abruptly. “I’m going to use Hedwig,” he muttered to his brother who nodded.

Harry went up to the attic where he found Hedwig sleeping in her cage. “Hey girl, hey, I got a letter for you to deliver,” he said waking her up.

Hedwig hooted angrily, disgruntled that Harry woke her up, but her mood improved once Harry fed her some treats. “This letter needs to go to Draco, okay? He’s at Hogwarts. And hurry!”

There was a knock behind him and Harry turned to see Fred standing in the doorway. He had a wrapped package and looked hesitant. “Hey, Harry,” he said.

“Hey Fred, what’s up?” Harry asked.

“Sorry for all that back there,” Fred said. “George and I… we’re kind of having a hard time right now… we thought that, you know, bringing in someone else into our… relationship would help, hence the girl at the shop and her brother. But it honestly didn’t.” He sighed and shook his head. “I don’t know what’s up with him recently. Am I not enough? What do you and Jamie do?”

“Us? Ohh umm… we just kissed… for the first time,” Harry blushed.

“And how did it feel?”

Harry’s blush deepened. He swallowed and said, “Amazing. I loved it. But… we both have boyfriends.”

“I see…” Fred sighed and moved into the bedroom. He sat down and stared at the present in his hands. “Maybe that’s what we need, other people… for ourselves. Although I don’t think I can see myself sharing George. He’s my twin. Mine. I love him… I love having sex with him. Everything was perfect when it was just the two of us. … Harry? Have you ever thought about it?”

“About what?”

“Having sex with Jamie,” Fred said. “I know the way you two are, how he’s always protecting you and you resting on him. And it’s a bit obvious to say that he’s really hot. So have you?”

Harry’s blush grew even deeper. He turned towards the window and said, “Yes but… also no? I’ve had a boyfriend before my current one, Viktor Krum. I felt safe between the two of them, but Viktor couldn’t understand Jamie and mine relationship.”

“And your current boyfriend does?”

“Yeah… they both do,” Harry nodded. “They both know that there’s a love between Jamie and I, between you and George, that they’ll never be a part of. And they accept that.”

“So… if the conditions were right, would you and Jamie do it? Make love?” Fred asked again.

“We… I don’t know,” Harry said. He took a deep breath and tried to control his growing erection. “I’m open to it,” he said.

Fred smiled and said, “It’s the best. Getting fucked by your brother. Knowing that it’s wrong but it feels so right. … If it were possible, I just know that I would want to marry George.”

Harry smiled. “I think we’re fine with just making out at the moment.”

“That sounds hot,” Fred said, a smirk playing his lips. “Maybe next time you two do that, George and I will join and watch?”

“Only if you two end up having sex in front of us!” Harry laughed, joking. Fred laughed with him and handed Harry the present.

“Thanks Harry! I think I know what to do. I was going to give this to you on Christmas day, but I just needed to talk with you,” Fred said. “George and I are opening a lewder department to bring in more costumers. That box is the first batch.”

“Oh…” Harry said. He unwrapped the present to see a discreet Weasley Brothers logo. He opened the box and his cheeks flared up. Inside the box was every sort of sex toy imaginable form long thick dildo and butt plugs, to nipple clips and whips. There were vibrators and an extra-long dildo that had both sides curved. Fred smiled and said, “It was fun practicing these products, but near the end I think I was having more fun than George.”

“Thanks… I’m sure Jamie will love them,” Harry smiled, moving the box to hide his hardening erection.

“You’re welcome,” Fred smiled. “Think of it as a thank you, for everything you and your brother have done.” He patted Harry’s shoulder, stood up, and left the room. Harry looked down at the box and blushed again. There was no denying that he was a little excited to use some of these toys, and they would be very helpful with his heat. Making a decision, he went to the door and closed it.

Harry took off all of his clothes, his slim pale body seeming to glisten in the moonlight as he walked towards the box. He took out the dildo first. It was thick, about three inches, and six inches long and a dark blue coloring. There was a small note attached to the realistic-looking balls. “Self-Screwing Dildo with Lube-Cumming Action! Just insert the dildo, squeeze the balls, and get ready for the ride of your life!”

Harry blushed. He was accustomed to his fingers whenever his heat became unbearable… but a full dildo? He hoped that it would fit. He licked his lips in anticipation and looked inside the box for lube, which he found in a very small bottle. Taking the dildo and the lube, he went to his and Jamie’s bed and laid down. He lifted his legs, thankful that he was flexible with his lithe size, and opened the bottle of lube. He squeezed a generous amount on his fingers and brought his hand to his exposed hole. Pink and hairless it quivered in anticipation as Harry teased it with his finger, brushing it around the hole, tapping it lightly. The cold lube dripped on Harry’s hot hole and caused a strange sensation that made Harry moan lightly. Before he moved any further, he used his free hand to grab his wand and, breaking Hogwarts rules, pointed it at the door and said, “Muffliato!”

He placed the wand away and pushed tip of his finger inside his hole, the muscle clenching around in resistance before relaxing. Harry always found that it was rather easy to finger himself for some reason. He pushed his finger in as deep as he can, his breath hitching slightly as it brushed against his prostate. He pushed against it and groaned as his hard cock twitched. He added a second finger and his hole opened greedily for it. He moaned as he pushed in and out, in and out of it his greedy, hot silky hole stretching and pushing against his fingers. His moans raised above his quiet whimpers as his heat started to affect his body. He started to feel hotter, sweat was starting to appear on his forehead and arms as he continued to pulse his two fingers in and out, in and out of his hole. His breathing quickened to match the pace. Then he added his third finger, they all pressed against his prostate and Harry muffled himself as he screamed, his cock now throbbing painfully, pre-cum collecting at the tip and dripping down onto his stomach. He twisted and turned his hand as best as he could, the three fingers stretching out as wide as they could, stretching his tight hole further until suddenly he pulled them out. He quickly poured lube on the dildo and pressed it against his hole. “Ughhh Draco,” he moaned as the cold plastic pushed against his hot hole. His asshole opened up for the head of the dildo and Harry pushed slowly, giving a long, low groan as his hole readily and eagerly accepted the dildo.

One inch, two inches, three, four, five, all six inches of the thick dildo were in Harry’s holes in seconds. Harry’s breath was high, his breathing fast as his ass got used to the feeling of being so full! His body now gleamed in sweat, pre-cum still pooled on his stomach and his cock was throbbing painfully, aching for a release. Harry pushed and pull the dildo experimentally with his inner muscles, his hole opening and closing around the dildo, and then Harry did something that he would never do to another guy: He squeezed the dildo’s balls.

It was like a switch was turned on in the dildo, it began to vibrate and move by itself, the cold plastic growing hotter as it pulsed inside Harry’s ass. Harry moaned and moved both his hands to keep his legs in the air and hole wide open for access. “Fuck Draco,” he said, his eyes closed as he envisioned a tall muscular blonde pushing into him. His confident smirk looking down at Harry as he leaned against the small raven-haired boy, his hands on either side of Harry’s head. The dildo began to fuck Harry roughly, violently pulsing in and out of his hole, seemingly growing in thickness and in length. It felt like his ass was being torn in two! He couldn’t help it, his cock was filled to the brim with cum that needed to escape and in a loud, long scream Harry came, “DRACO!” his high voice filled the room, his heat disappeared immensely satisfied. Thick hot ropes of cum splashed on his chest and chin, some getting in Harry’s mouth as he continued to scream in pure ecstasy. His orgasm caused his ass to clamp down on the dildo, holding it in a vice-like grip as it tightened to it’s near original state. The dildo flared with a hotness unlike any other and Harry felt ropes of lube ejaculate from the dildo as if it was an actual cock. That only caused Harry to moan again.

When he could feel like he could move normally again, he pulled the dildo out of his ass and casted a cleaning spell. Then he placed it back in the box and hid it underneath his and Jamie’s bed as if nothing ever happened. His ass felt sore, but in a good way as he stood up. He felt oddly empty as he slowly put on his clothes again and undo the Muffliato Charm only to see Ron and Jamie come inside.

“Where were you?” Jamie asked.

“Here,” Harry said. Taking off his clothes again to put on his pajamas. Ron and Jamie shrugged and removed their clothes. Harry and Jamie got into their bed, the third bed that was meant for Harry laying empty and forgotten, and the two took off their glasses. Harry curled onto Jamie’s chest and looked at his twin. “Jamie…” he breathed, “I love you.”

“Love you too Harry,” Jamie said in a slightly confused tone. Harry pushed to kiss his brother on the lips before resting in the nook of his neck. Here, in Jamie’s arms, Harry felt at home. But also… he felt he could feel the same feelings, the same sense of safety, if it was Draco holding onto him as well.

Harry woke with a start to find a bulging stocking lying over the end of his and Jamie’s beds. He put on his glasses and looked around; the tiny window was almost completely obscured with snow and, in front of it, Ron was sitting bolt upright in bed examining what looked like a couple of pictures.

“What’s that?” Harry asked.

“It’s from Colin,” Ron said, his voice heavy. “He took my pet name for him literally…” A goofy smile hinted at his face. Harry looked more closely at the picture and blushed. Colin was staring at the camera wearing dog ears that flapped around excitedly, body-compressing scarlet and gold ringed arm sleeves and stockings and a puppy-tail tied on his backside that wagged enthusiastically. The Colin in the photo posed so the viewer could see every detail of his lithe, naked body, with only a pair of white briefs covering his private parts.

Harry felt a body press against his and his brother’s voice saying, “Nice. What’s the second photo?”

“I’m not showing you guys that one!” Ron said at once. He hid the photos and just stared out. “Can’t believe he took me literally,” he muttered.

“Well what do you call him?”

“Pup, cause he’s all enthusiastic like a puppy,” Ron said.

“Cute,” Jamie said. He looked down at Harry and smirked. “We should really have nicknames for each other and Draco and Blaise.”

“No,” Harry said turning to his own stocking of presents, which included a sweater with a large Golden Snitch worked onto the front, hand-knitted by Mrs. Weasley, a large box of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes products from the twins (a note saying that this is their “safe” present which confused Jamie as he got his box),a box of chocolates from Blaise, a small box from Draco with a note that said “open in private” and a slightly damp, moldly-smelling package that came with a label reading, TO MASTER, FROM KREACHER. Jamie got the same package from the elf.

Harry stared at them “Think it’s dangerous?” he asked.

“Can’t be anything too dangerous, all our mail’s still being searched at the Ministry,” Ron replied, though he was eyeing the parcels suspiciously. Jamie picked up both boxes and threw them in a trash bin. He turned towards the bed and held up his own sweater, which had a large Quaffle worked onto the front.

Ron went out of the room and Harry pulled out the Weasley twins’ other gift to the Potter twins. Harry blushed as he opened the box; his blush deepened at Jamie’s perverted smirk. “Put them in my trunk, we’ll have fun when we can,” was all Jamie said and Harry quickly obeyed. He opened Jamie’s trunk and cocked his head when he saw a flat long box inside with something poking out. Honoring his brother’s privacy Harry ignored it, but he could have sworn that whatever poked out looked like leather which Jamie never wore before. Still bent over the trunk, Harry thought now would be the perfect time to open Draco’s present. He let out a short scream of surprise.

What looked like pure gold and platinum: a subtle necklace sat on its display cushion. The chain was platinum, nearly matching Draco’s skin color, with a gold ornament that looked like a Snitch ball. There was a note folded in on the inside of the box. Harry placed the necklace preciously down and took the note.

To the Second-Best Seeker in Hogwarts,

I hope you enjoy this little present. It is just a small example of how much you mean to me Harry. I love you.

Draco

Harry smiled and lifted the necklace up. It was short, looking to just lay loosely on his neck, and the snitch would lay where his neck and chest meet on top of his collarbone. He showed Jamie the necklace and note. Jamie read the note as Harry tried to put the necklace on.

“You know he’s wrong,” Jamie said dropping the note on their bed. “You’re the Best Seeker in Hogwarts, not Second-Best.”

“I know, but it’s the thought that counts… can you help me?” Harry said turning his back to Jamie. His twin helped him clasp the necklace and Harry turned around. It fitted perfectly.

“Damn, Draco’s got good taste,” Jamie said.

“He does,” Harry smiled as he moved the snitch idly between his fingers.

Everyone was wearing new sweaters when they all sat down for Christmas lunch, everyone except Fleur (on whom, it appeared, Mrs. Weasley had not wanted to waste one) and Mrs. Weasley herself, who was sporting a brand-new midnight blue witch’s hat glittered with what looked like tiny starlike diamonds, and a spectacular golden necklace.

“Fred and George gave them to me! Aren’t they beautiful?”

“Harry? What’s that?” Ginny asked pointing to Harry’s necklace.

Harry blushed and muttered, “Gift from my boyfriend.”

“Woah,” George whistled. “Thing looks to cost a fortune! You struck it with someone rich or something?”

“You can say that…” Harry said, his eyes shifting to Ron and Jamie.

“Good job Harry,” George smirked. “We should follow your lead.”

“Is zat real gold?” Fleur asked.

“And platinum,” Harry said nodding in embarrassment. “The chain’s platinum.”

George and Bill gave a low whistle. “Would love to meet the guy who gave you that, Harry,” Bill said. “Make sure that he’s up to snuff for you.”

Harry offered Bill a shy smile and shook his head. “He’s a good guy Bill, no need to threaten him.”

“We’ll see about that,” Bill said giving Harry a wolfish grin.

“Arthur!” Mrs. Weasley said suddenly. She had risen from her chair, her hand was pressed over her heart and she was staring out of the kitchen window. “Arthur—it’s Percy!”

Chapter Text

Chapter 16

Percy Weasley was striding across the snowy yard, his horn-rimmed glasses glinting in the sunlight. Next to him was a man limping slightly, his mane of graying hair and his black cloak flecked with snow.

“Arthur, he’s—he’s with the Minister!”

Before any of them could say anything, before Mr. and Mrs. Weasley could do more than exchange stunned looks, the back door opened and there stood Percy.

There was a moment’s painful silence. Then Percy said rather stiffly, “Merry Christmas, Mother.”

“Oh, Percy!” Mrs. Weasley said, and she threw herself into his arms.

Rufus Scrimgeour paused in the doorway, leaning on his walking stick and smiling as he observed this affecting scene.

“You must forgive this intrusion,” he said, when Mrs. Weasley looked around at him, beaming and wiping her eyes. “Percy and I were in the vicinity—working, you know—and he couldn’t resist dropping in and seeing you all.”

But Percy showed no sign of wanting to greet any of the rest of the family. He stood, poker-straight and awkward-looking, and stared over everybody else’s heads. Mr. Weasley, Fred, and George were all observing him, stony-faced.

“Bull,” Jamie whispered to Harry, who nodded.

“Please, come in, sit down, Minister!” Mrs. Weasley fluttered, straightening her hat “Have a little purkey or some tooding. …I mean—”

“No, no, my dear Molly,” Scrimgeour said. Harry guessed that he had checked her name with Percy before they entered the house. “I don’t want to intrude, wouldn’t be here at all if Percy hadn’t wanted to see you all so badly…”

“Or he wants to see us,” Harry whispered in  Jamie’s ear. His twin nodded.

“… We’ve only looked in for five minutes, so I’ll have a stroll around the yard while you catch up with Percy. No, no I assure you, I don’t want to butt in! Well, if anybody cared to show me your charming garden …Ah, those young men’s finished, why don’t they have a stroll with me?”

The atmosphere around the table changed perceptibly. Everybody looked from Scrimgeour to the Potter twins. Nobody seemed to find Scrimgeour’s pretense that he did not know the twins’ names convincing, or find it natural that they should be chosen to accompany the Minister around the garden when Ginny, Fleur, and George also had clean plates.

“Of course,” Harry said standing, his twin following. They escorted the Minister out of the room and across the yard toward the Weasley’s overgrown, snow-covered garden.

“I wanted to meet the two of you for some time,” Scrimgeour said after a few moments’ silence. “Did you know that?”

“No, but it should have been inevitable,” Harry said. “Though if you wanted to meet us so badly, surely you would have tried sooner. After all, you are the Minister of Magic.”

“Yes, but Dumbledore has been very protective of you two,” Scrimgeour said. “Natural, of course, natural, after what you’ve been through—the both of you. …Especially what happened at the Ministry …”

“He must have heard the rumors,” Jamie said to no one in particular. “Of what happened back then. It’s only natural for him to know if everything was true or not, but since Dumbledore stood in his way, he could not get to the source.”

“And the rumors must have been driving him insane,” Harry hummed. “Imagine, every story about the Potter twins each more grand than the last, and Lord Voldemort… and of course the prophecy…”

“A prophecy,” Jamie said. “That declares the Potter Twins ‘the Chosen Ones’ that we are the only ones who can vanquish the Dark Lord. What a pretty story.”

“A pretty story that people support, Jamie,” Harry said before Scrimgeour could interrupt. They stopped walking, the twins looking at each other and ignoring the Minister completely. “Last year everyone seemed to hate up, but now… we’re the talk of the crowd, everyone is looking to us for something or other. A powerful pair of twins standing for justice, or so the rumors say.”

“So they’re true—”

“Imagine, Harry!” Jamie said. “All those people who think we’re heroes. What would it look like if we were to back a certain person—”

“—a certain Minister perchance—”

“—Exactly, why the whole public would be behind him too,” Jamie nodded.

“Yeah… everything he seemed to do would appear to be by our approval. Although I wonder what the prices would be…”

“Oh, well, nothing at all onerous,” Scrimgeour said, finally getting a word in. He talked loud and fast so they couldn’t interrupt him. “If you two were to be seen popping in and out of the Ministry from time to time, for instance, that would give the right impressions. And of course, while you were there, you would have ample opportunity to speak to Gawain Robards, my successor as Head of the Auror office. Dolores Umbridge has told me that you both cherish an ambition to become an Auror. Well, that could be arranged very easily. …”

The twins felt anger bubbling in the pits of their stomachs: So Dolores Umbridge was still at the Ministry, was she?

They spoke with venom. “Mascots, Harry. Mascots. That is what he wants us to be,” Jamie said.

“Mascots of an ineffective Ministry that hire children abusers and criminalize wrong men,” Harry said. “We would be seen as aiding the failing Ministry that people must be turning against, or at least doubting, because of the lack of results. I mean, why else was Stan Shunpike arrested? They wanted to appear useful. Of course, if we allied with the Ministry, Scrimgeour and any other Ministry official could easily ask us what Dumbledore is doing, what’s he planning, why he keeps leaving the castle.”

“All at the expense of being used by the Ministry—”

“Some would say it’s your duty to be used by the Ministry!” Scrimgeour yelled. The twins glared at them, and continued their venom-filled banter, their minds somehow working as one.

“What does this man know of Duty!” Harry said. “They never get it, Jamie, do they? They’re either like Fudge who pretends everything’s fine while people get murdered, or they’re Barty Crouch who just chucks people into Azkaban all willy-nilly! I wouldn’t be surprised if this Minister is secretly related to a Death Eater like Barty. Of course in the end, they don’t care about us, do they Jamie?”

“No Harry, they don’t,” Jamie said, allowing his brother to take full control.

“They just care that we’re on their side, that we say what they’re doing is right. In the end, it doesn’t matter if we die Jamie, hell it would probably be a better story if we do: ‘The Potter Twins Die Defending the Ministry!’ What a lovely title that sounds like. In this experiment, we’re turned into faceless dummies without any history, personality, or humanity. Dummies to be propped up at their choosing, and stored when they don’t need us. I wouldn’t put it past them to preserve our corpses for that very use! Well, Minister, I’m afraid my brother and I have five words for you.”

Harry and Jamie both raised their right fists. There, shining white on the back of their hands, where the scars which Dolores Umbridge had forced them to carve into their own flesh: I must not tell lies.

“We don’t remember you rushing to our defense when we were trying to tell everyone Voldemort was back. The Ministry wasn’t so keen to be pals last year. And we don’t want to be pals with you now. Hell… with how ineffective you are, and the way you even thought to have the balls to approach us, I would even hint to say that we might be enemies. But we’re not, are we? No… We, Jamie and I, are two sixteen year old wizards who are trying to end this stupid bloody war, while you, a man who is much older than us, is running around being an ineffective dunderhead.

“Here is what I will say to you, Minister, the war is going to end soon, and it will end without your or the Ministry’s meddling. You’ve shown yourself countless times how ineffective you are, so stay out of our way. I don’t care if you or the Ministry become collateral damage,” Harry warned.

The Minister looked outraged, he frothed in anger, but Harry didn’t care. He grabbed Jamie’s hand the two turned and walked back into Burrow. They past everyone and stopped on the stairs, out of sight from everyone. Harry turned and grabbed Jamie’s face, leaning up to roughly kiss him.

“God you were hot talking like that,” Jamie breathed.

“So were you,” Harry said. They kissed again, Jamie’s hand moving dangerously close to inside Harry’s pants. “Our Slytherins are lucky,” Harry said.

“They are, now shut up and kiss me,” Jamie said.

Harry got a response from the Dark Lord a couple of days after New Year. He rushed to his room and closed the door. With nervous hands, he opened the envelope and pulled it out. It read:

Potter,

I must admit that I am impressed. You are correct, I have created several Horcruxes. And from the sound of your letter, it seems to me that you are following a path similar to mine. I approve. I believe that you are far from Dumbledore’s grasp and walking down a long road that will lead to power beyond your imagination. I am impressed both with your ingenuity and resourcefulness in completing my task, as well as what must have been apparent ease to convince the old fool to do our bidding.

Together we shall orchestrate Dumbledore’s demise, Harry Potter. Under my guide, your knowledge of the Dark Arts will expand and, in time, you will be a Dark Lord yourself, worthy to join the ranks of myself, Morgan le Fey, and Gellert Grindelwald. You will be a Dark Lord to outshine us all, Harry, and soon we shall have the world, both muggles and wizards, begging at our feet. Your brother will be safe, this I promise you. Our plan does not involve your brother, and I have already instructed that no harm must come to either of you. Since you write to me with such enthusiasm and need, I believe that we should work quickly to kill Dumbledore.

Return to Hogwarts, take control of a fireplace. My followers in the Ministry will make a personal connection to Malfoy Manor. I will know when you have gained a fireplace. Send anything to make sure the connection has been made, and I myself along with a small number of my most trusted Death Eaters will come. Do this, and all the knowledge I have will be yours, Harry, and I will groom you into the next powerful Dark Lord.

“He… he fell for it…” Harry said, reading the letter again. “The bastard fell for it!” He smiled and had to keep himself from laughing. It’s going to work! It’s really going to work! He quickly hid the letter and turned to open the door only to see Jamie standing there, crossing his arms. Harry kissed Jamie but the stern expression did not fade away.

“Who fell for it?” he said simply.

“I…”

“Harry Fleamont Potter,” Jamie said walking into the room and closing the door behind him. “You have seconds to tell me what is going on before I force it out of you.”

“I’m doing this to protect you!” Harry said quickly, “I don’t want to see you get hurt—”

“What are you doing?” Jamie demanded. “I will look through your journals if you refuse to tell me.”

He stood like a towering stone statue. Intimidating. His muscles bulged, his nose flared, Harry just stared at his brother as he stood there, waiting, expecting. A small amount of fear rose in Harry. What will Jamie say when he finds out? Will he hate him? Will he feel betrayed? They both hate both Voldemort and Dumbledore… but Harry knew that Jamie would never sink as low as Harry has done. “One…two…three—”

Jamie grabbed Harry and threw him onto the bed. With one hand he held Harry’s hands over his head while his other searched Harry’s pockets. He pulled out Voldemort’s letter and read it. “HARRY!” He screamed, a look of pure anger on his face. “What the fuck have you done!?”

“I’m doing it to save you!” Harry screamed.

“Joining the fucking—”

“I’m not joining him! I’m fooling him!” Harry yelled. “Look at my journals, you know how much I hate Voldemort. If it weren’t for him we would be a normal family, Mum and Dad wouldn’t be dead! I hate him, I always hated him and I always will hate him. But that is not going to keep you safe, simply hating the man will not keep you safe. Draco and I—”

“So bloody Malfoy knew about this, huh? He knew before your own twin!”

“Yes! He was the one who thought of it,” Harry yelled. He struggled against Jamie’s grip but the stronger teen wouldn’t budge. “We thought that if we could convince Voldemort that we were on his side, that he thought that I wanted to be like him, then he would trust us. He would trust us and we could entice him and Dumbledore to fight—to kill each other off.”

“And if one of them survives?” Jamie asked.

“Then I would kill him,” Harry said.

“Jesus Christ… Harry! You’re not a murderer,” Jamie screamed. “I will not have a murderer as a twin.”

“Please! It’s either they both die or we die Jamie, and I don’t want to lose you!” Harry cried out. Tears started to flow from his eyes and rand down his face. “I don’t want to lose you. I lost Viktor! I lost Sirius! Every man I loved, I lost and I don’t ever want to lose you Jamie, I don’t want to stand over your grave! Please, this is the only way I can see that ends with us both living, that ends with you living. I love you Jamie, I love you, I love you, I love you and I will not let you go!” Harry broke down, his body shuddering in tears. Jamie moved quickly, unhooked Harry’s hands from his and grabbed the smaller teen, holding him closely to his body as Harry curled around and cried into his chest, repeating over and over again “I don’t want to lose you; I don’t want to lose you.”

Jamie began crying too and the two rocked back and forth gently, Jamie smoothing Harry’s hair, combing his fingers through the raven locks with one hand as he rubbed Harry’s small back with the other. He was like a small child in that moment, a small, frail child that needed his parents’ affection, that needed his mother to hold him and his father to sooth him. But they didn’t have their parents, all they had was each other. Jamie whispered sweet nothingness into Harry’s ear, trying to sooth his brother as his tears fell onto Harry’s hair. They didn’t know how long they stayed there, crying. It was like a pressure was building up ever since Sirius’s death, a pressure that build and build, making it harder and harder for the boys to function, to express, to do anything. A heavy, enormous pressure that was now being released into the air with every sad wail from Harry and tear that dropped from their eyes.

They started to feel exhausted, physically and mentally drained. The sun seemed to have moved across the sky, beginning to set. Jamie continued to comb Harry’s hair, his fingers feather-like and gentle. “It’s okay Harry… it’s okay,” he whispered. “You’re never going to lose me, and I’m never going to lose you. Understand? What’s done is done and now we have to live with the consequences, okay? So tell me, please, what did you and Draco do?”

Harry sniffled and looked up at his twin brother. His eyes were red with tears, his nose enflamed and lips dry. He licked them and said in a broken, hoarse voice, “We first contacted Voldemort… told him that I didn’t want to fight… that we didn’t want to fight. …I lied about many things; my interest in the Dark Arts, my want to be like him, and my unquestionable worship of what’s he done. … … He believed me, and sent me a task… to prove my commitment. He asked… he asked me to tell him how he is immortal. Because he is, Jamie, he’s immortal. … I’ve kept looking for weeks but couldn’t find the answer. Months began to pass. I turned… irritable, angry… you know. Every book that I found always referred to another book that wasn’t in the library.

“One night I figured that Dumbledore had it, and I was right. I found the book but Dumbledore caught me. I had to think quick, I lied to him too and somehow we ended up looking at the book on his desk, reviewing it. … I looked at every page, every single page, of the book and memorized them. Then as quickly as I could, I ran back to place the memory into my journals—and there it was! The entire text! Right in my journal that I can read at any time. That was the day before Slughorn’s party, and I’ve been reading it ever since. Whenever you saw me here at the Burrow with a book, that was my journal and I was reading that book.

“Christmas Eve I’ve found the answer. He has Horcruxes, these things that you can store pieces of your soul in. He has them, multiples of them. That’s why he won’t die. …I mailed him that I knew about the Horcruxes, and what I did to get the information. That letter… is his response.”

“Harry Potter…” Jamie sighed. “You stupid idiot.”

“We can strengthen the castle’s defenses! Tell Dumbledore about the attack—the Order will be here to defend the students while Voldemort and Dumbledore fight!” Harry said slightly hysteric. “Please Jamie, I’m too far down this, there’s no going back!” He began to cry again but Jamie stopped him.

The muscled Potter lifted the younger one like a baby. Harry curled in his arms and Jamie walked them to a seat. Harry stayed on his lap as Jamie wrapped his arms around Harry. “Okay,” he said after a minute. “We’ll tell Dumbledore, tell him that we had a dream, that Voldemort somehow forgot to keep his defense up and let us see him planning. Do you have a date?”

“Yeah… the day we come back,” Harry said.

Jamie nodded. “We’ll tell him once we’re sure everyone is in their common rooms. They’ll be safe there. Tell… tell Voldemort to strike at night. Hopefully, the castle will sleep through the battle.”

“Okay,” Harry nodded. “Jamie…” his voice was soft and so baby-like. He moved to kiss Jamie gently. “Thank you.”

“Any time Harry, any time.”

Late in the afternoon, a couple of days after Harry and Jamie had their episode, Harry, Jamie, Ron, and Ginny lined up beside the kitchen fire to return to Hogwarts. The Ministry had arranged this one-off connection to the Floo Network to return students quickly and safely to the school. Only Mrs. Weasley was there to say good-bye, as Mr. Weasley, Fred, George, Bill, and Fleur were all at work. Mrs. Weasley dissolved into tears at the moment of parting. Admittedly, it took very little to set her off lately; she had been crying on and off ever since Percy had stormed from the house on Christmas Day with his glasses splattered with mashed parsnips (for which Fred, George, and Ginny all claimed credit).

“Don’t cry Mum,” Ginny said as Mrs. Weasley sobbed into her shoulder. “It’s okay…”

“Yeah, don’t worry about us,” Ron said, permitting his mother to plant a very wet kiss on his cheek, “or about Percy. He’s such a prat, it’s not really a loss, is it?”

Mrs. Weasley sobbed harder than ever as she enfolded Harry and Jamie in her arms. “Promise me you’ll look after yourselves. …Stay out of trouble, the both of you…”

“You know us Mrs. Weasley,” Jamie said. “We like a quiet life.”

They stepped into the emerald fire and shouted “Hogwarts!” Harry had one last fleeting view of the Weasley’s kitchen and Mrs. Weasley’s tearful face before the flames engulfed them; spinning very fast, he caught blurred glimpses of other Wizarding rooms, which were whipped out of sight before he could get a proper look; then they were slowing down, finally stopping squarely in the fireplace in Professor McGonagall’s office. She barely glanced up from her work as they clambered out over the grate.

“Evening, Potters. Try not to get too much ash on the carpet.”

“No, Professor.”

“Professor, is Dumbledore in today?” Harry asked.

“He is, but he is thoroughly busy at the moment,” Professor McGonagall said.

“Thank you, Professor.”

Harry straightened his glasses and Jamie flattened his hair as Ron came spinning into view. When Ginny arrived, all four of them trooped out of McGonagall’s office and toward Gryffindor Tower. Harry glanced out of the corridor windows as they passed; the sun was already sinking over grounds carpeted in deeper snow than had lain over the Burrow garden. In the distance, he could see Hagrid feeding Buckbeak in front of his cabin. A bubble of nervousness started to grow in his stomach. They got into the Gryffindor Tower (The Fat Lady changed the password and they had to wait for Hermione to let them in and give Harry and Jamie a scroll from Dumbledore) and Harry and Jamie ran directly into their dormitory.

Harry opened his trunk and pulled out a pair of rolled up socks. From the socks he produced the small bottle of Felix Felicis that he won on the first day of Potions. “Good for twelve hours of luck,” Harry said. “You, me, Draco, and Blaise… that’s three hours each. We’ll drink directly before I open a fireplace for them. I’ll be using the Room of Requirement, obviously.”

“Three hours… do you think that’s enough?” Jamie asked.

“No, I honestly don’t, but I want you all to drink it as well,” Harry said.

“Okay,” Jamie nodded. “This is really happening, isn’t it?”

“It is,” Harry said. “Come on, we should go tell Dumbledore and find Draco and Blaise.”

Jamie nodded and the two stood. They walked down into the common room to see Ron busy with an excitable Colin on his lap, and Hermione and Ginny sitting very close together. “I’ll tell Ron,” Harry said. He walked towards his muscled friend and said, “Ron… Jamie and I are going to Dumbledore. Something… awful is going to happen. I… I need you to promise me, okay? Promise me that you stay in here. Colin, make sure that Ron never leaves this room. Please.”

“Harry mate, what’s wrong?” Ron asked.

“I… Jamie and I had a dream, the same dream,” Harry said. “We heard things in this dream… about You-Know-Who.”

Ron’s eyes bulged in recognition and frowned. “Okay, we’ll stay here,” Ron said. “But Harry, you two better be come back. Or stay near Dumbledore at least.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll be fine,” Harry said flashing Ron the luck potion. He pocketed it just as a pair of arms wrapped around him.

“Harry! Come back exactly when you’re done, you hear me?” Hermione said. “You and Jamie better not be brave idiots.”

“Don’t worry Hermione,” Harry said. “As soon as we tell Dumbledore, we’re coming back.”

“You better, or else,” Hermione threatened.

“We’ll be fine Hermione, we promise you,” Jamie said.

Hermione turned to Jamie and said, “When it comes to your safety, you guys are never fine. But… be careful. And come back here!”

“We will,” Harry nodded. “Come on Jamie.”

The two twins walked out of the Gryffindor Tower and made their way down the marble staircases. They first made their way to the dungeons and searched for their boyfriends. “Draco!” Harry yelled.

“Blaise!”

They continued to walk around, yelling for their boyfriends’ names. They walked down what looked to be a dead end, only for an archway to appear to their right and, luckily, Draco and Blaise walked out. “What are you two doing here?” Draco hissed.

Harry explained the situation as he pulled out the luck potion. The two Slytherins frowned. “So soon,” Draco said.

Harry nodded. “We’re going to begin once everyone is asleep. That is what we’re going to tell Dumbledore. When I… when I open the fireplace, we need to drink the luck potions. That’s the only way that I know we will survive this.”

“What about everyone else?” Draco asked.

“They’ll be safe in the common rooms,” Jamie said. The only people who will be in the hallways are Death Eaters and members of the Order of the Phoenix.”

“Harry, before you do this… I want you to know that I love you,” Draco said.

“I love you too Draco,” Harry said. He hugged the taller teen and rested his head on Draco’s chiseled pecs. “When this is all over,” Harry whispered, “I want us… I need us to… consummate or love.”

“Of course,” Draco kissed him. “Be careful, my love.”

“You too, my lion,” Blaise said kissing Jamie.

Harry pulled out the flask of Felix Felicis and tapped it with his wand. It multiplied into four equal flasks, each with a fourth of the original potion. “Drink this at midnight when the clock stops chiming,” he instructed giving Draco and Blaise their own vials. The Slytherins nodded.

“Good luck,” Draco said.

“We’re so proud of what you achieved Harry,” Blaise said. He kissed both the twins’ cheeks. The four of them shared a nervous, anxious smile and the two Potters went off again, this time towards Dumbledore’s office, practicing their lie on the way there.

The lamps in Dumbledore’s office were lit, the portraits of previous headmasters were snoring gently in their frames. Dumbledore was sitting at his desk, his black withered hand laying useless to the side while his other hand was set on writing something. He looked up in surprise as Harry and Jamie ran in. The sun was almost done setting.

“Boys, I’m surprised to see you here, our lesson wasn’t schedule until tomorrow,” Dumbledore said.

“We know, but there’s something important that we need to tell you,” Harry said. “It happened last night. Our scars were burning and… we saw a dream.”

“A vision, of Voldemort,” Jamie said. “We don’t know if it was real or just a vision that sent to us. Either way, it scared us.”

A serious expression fell on Dumbledore. “Tell me, quickly,” he said.

“Voldemort has found a way into Hogwarts. He was gloating about it to his followers,” Harry said. “They plan to attack tonight, after everyone has fallen asleep.”

“This is troubling news,” Dumbledore frowned. “I will inform the staff immediately, as well as the Order. Do you have anything else from this dream that will help us?”

“He’s planning on bringing a small team,” Jamie said. “Most likely either his most dangerous or most loyal followers. We… we couldn’t count how many.”

“Troubling… to attack so quickly when we are far from the answers we seek,” Dumbledore said.

Harry and Jamie shared a worried look. Dumbledore stood up and walked to the fireplace. He threw floo powder into the flames and stuck his head into it. “Professor McGonagall’s office,” he said. “Minerva, troubling news. The Potters just informed me that they have seen a vision. Voldemort plans to fight tonight. Inform the other staff, have the Head of Houses seal the common rooms. I want it to be impossible for anyone to enter the common rooms until morning. There is no time to evacuate the students. Fawkes will inform the Order.”

He pulled his head from the fireplace and turned to Harry and Jamie, a worried expression on his face. “Boys, I ask you both to return to your common room immediately. Do not tell anyone else what you told me, not even Mr. Weasley or Miss Granger. I do not want to risk causing a panic. Go directly to your common room and stay there. Do you understand me?”

“Yes sir,” they said.

“Good. Now go! Quick,” Dumbledore said and the two ran from his office. They ran down the corridor and to the staircases. “We need the cloak,” Jamie said, Harry nodding. They ran back to the Gryffindor common room, speeding past everyone, and grabbed the Invisibility Cloak.

“Harry! Where are you going!”

“Dumbledore need us, we’ll be back!” Harry yelled at Hermione as they ran out the common room again.

They made their way to the Room of Requirement. The Room was small, holding only a single fireplace on the far wall and a large quantity of floo powder next to it.. Their hearts pulsing, they slid down against the wall next to the fireplace. “It’s nine,” Harry breathed.

And they waited.

They didn’t say a word. Outside the staff and Order members scrambled to protect the students as best they could. They could hear Professor McGonagall sealing the entrance to Gryffindor Tower and various secret passages. They heard familiar voices yelling as their feet ran down the corridors, checking every door. They never once looked at the Room of Requirement. Time moved painfully slow, each minute passing with an agonizing, hurtful tension that coiled in both their bodies. Every now and then they checked their wristwatches, only to give a low sigh. The twins were stone-faced, scared out of their mind. The three hours seemed to have aged the twins by years, worry marks appearing on their foreheads, their faces hung slightly as stress, tension, and anxiety did their damage. Then, finally, the school clock began to toll midnight has arrived.

They took out the bottles of luck potion as it struck once, uncorked it as it struck two. Three hours, they have till three hours to kill both Voldemort and Dumbledore. “Harry…” Jamie whispered. Harry turned towards his brother. Jamie lifted his luck potion slightly, “for a better future,” he said.

“For a better future,” Harry said. They tapped their vials together as the clock struck six, downed it at seven.

At eight they felt the effect. An exhilarating sense of infinite opportunity stole through them; they felt as though they could have done anything, anything at all… and suddenly having Voldemort and Dumbledore killing themselves seemed much more possible. Yet they still had that horrible coil tensed in their stomach.

The clock toiled ten and Jamie placed the Invisibility Cloak on him. Harry threw the floo powder into the fire and it burned a brilliant emerald. “Malfoy Manor!” Harry yelled as he threw the crystal flask that held his luck potion. The fire flared for a moment before calming itself.

The clock struck eleven, and nothing happened, a tense silence filling the room. Harry stood and stared at the fire, begging, praying that it worked. His muscles stiffened, his teeth pressed against each other. The exhilarating sense of the luck potion fought the constant, horrible, tight coil that knotted in his stomach. Why was nothing happening?

Then, as the clock struck twelve, the green flames flared again and a figure walked through, followed by another, and another, and two more. Then, finally, as the ringing of the bell died into silence, the fireplace flared for one final time, and Lord Voldemort walked into Hogwarts.

Chapter Text

Chapter 17

Harry stared at the Death Eaters surrounding him, recognizing each one. The most recognizable was Bellatrix Lestrange, her wild black hair spread from her head as she looked around with a crazed eye. Next to her, giving Harry a condescending sneer, was Lucius Malfoy, apparently free from Azkaban. The nearest Death Eater to Harry looked feral, his teeth pointed and nose squashed against his face as he gave a low growl, sniffing the air. He stared at harry and smirked. “I can smell your heat, boy,” he growled. “You’re a regular bitch-in-heat, aren’t you?”

“Now, now Greyback,” Voldemort said with an amused look. “No need to be rude to the Golden Boy who lead us here.”

Harry ignored the disgusted shiver going down his spine as he stared at Greyback. “Yeah, I’m on my heat so what?” he demanded.

Fenrir smirked, “If we weren’t busy, I’d show you want a man’s supposed to respond to a bitch-in-heat.”

“You are not my man,” Harry snarled. Voldemort looked between the two of them. “Explain,” he commanded.

“He’s a bitch-in-heat, what else is there?” Fenrir growled, too close to Harry for his comfort. Harry’s eyes went to the corner where Jamie was hidden under the Invisibility Cloak and wished that he would stay there. He turned to Voldemort and avoided the man’s red eyes and nose-less face as he said, “My brother and I have heats like Fenrir Greyback said. It just means that when it activates we become… needy for sexual intimacy. We also have the ability to bear children; it is a rare skill.”

“I see…” Voldemort said, looking interested. “And what do you do when your… time comes?”

“Probably looks for a male to fuck him,” Fenrir Greyback growled. Harry glared at him and said, “I do not! Draco Malfoy takes care of me.”

“Draco!” Lucius Malfoy hissed, a look of disgust on his face. “Lies! My son would never sink as low to consider—”

“You never knew your son, so don’t you dare tell me what he would or wouldn’t do,” Harry yelled at Mr. Malfoy, his anxiety turning into rage at that very moment. He turned to Voldemort and said, “It does not matter now what my heat makes me capable of. The castle is asleep, now is the time to strike.”

“You are right, Potter, now is the time to strike,” Voldemort said. “You have been true to your word ever since you started this little betrayal. Dumbledore and his castle will fall tonight, and it is all because of you, Harry Potter. Be proud of yourself.”

“I am, my Lord,” Harry said coolly. Voldemort just smirked and led the Death Eaters out into the Hallway. Harry hung back and whispered, “Follow us at a distance, I’m going to try and lose Voldemort the second I’m able to.”

“What about the Death Eaters?” Jamie’s voice whispered.

“Let the Order take care of them. If they need help, we attack,” Harry said.

“Okay.”

Harry exited the Room of Requirement, Jamie following him under the Invisibility Cloak. The Death Eaters crowded around the Dark Lord as he gave them orders. Harry tried to stay a little away from them, but Voldemort turned his glare to Harry. “Come here Potter,” he said, his voice high-pitched like icy scraping against glass. Feeling a moment of disgust, Harry walked next to the Dark Lord and felt his hand on his shoulder, his fingers long and bony. “You will accompany me to Dumbledore,” he said. “Let us show the old fool the failures he thrown away. Greyback, Lestrange, deal with the staff, make sure that none interfere. Malfoy, secure the Great Hall with Yaxley. Crowe, Rowle, take care of any resistance.”

He started to walk away with Harry, his hand never leaving Harry’s shoulder. Harry glanced back looking scared, his eyes searching fruitlessly for his brother who was still under the Invisibility Cloak. Voldemort’s grip was vice-like, never faltering as the two walked. It was unnaturally cold, like an undead hand fresh from the grave. Both were silent as they walked down the corridor, Harry’s eyes shifting everywhere looking for someone, anyone to distract Voldemort. Where is the Order? He thought.

“Once this matter is done,” Voldemort spoke, his grip never faltering. Harry could feel his fingers burying deeper into his shoulder, “we shall talk more about yours and your brother’s… ‘heat’ as you referred them. Draco Malfoy will not be a suitable match for either of you.” Harry felt disgusted at Voldemort’s words, knowing full well what he meant.

They continued walking down the corridor and turned the corner. The two slowly descended the marble staircase. Harry looked around the best he could without making it obvious, Voldemort’s grip only tightened as they slowly gotten closer to the third floor. Then there was an explosion. They both looked up to see a section of the marble staircase three floors above them falling, avoiding them by mere inches as it passed before falling even more. “Move!” Voldemort commanded and they walked faster. Harry couldn’t help but look up at where the staircase was, wondering how it was destroyed. The sound of fighting soon broke out, but Voldemort did not pay any attention to the fighting as he dragged Harry along.

They reached the third-floor corridor, only to have Dumbledore waiting for them, standing in the middle of the corridor his wand in his hand. “You shouldn’t have come here tonight Tom,” he said, his eyes shifted to Harry and said, “Harry, stay still and run as soon as you can.”

“You stupid fool,” Voldemort chuckled. “Who do you think brought us into Hogwarts?”

Dumbledore stared at Harry, his eyes in disbelief. Voldemort chuckle and said, “Yes… your dear Potter here. He and I were in communications for many months, he opened up our way into Hogwarts. You’ve put too much stock into the boy Dumbledore. But do not worry, I will treat him far better as my consort than you ever did as your student.””

“Sir! They threatened my brother,” Harry said quickly. “They were going to kill him if they haven’t—”

“Harry. When I attack, you run to your brother,” Dumbledore said. “Get your brother and return to help.”

“Remember our deal, Potter,” Voldemort snarled, his fingers pressing deeply into his shoulder. Harry groaned in pain and winced. It was like knives stored in a freezer suddenly were pulled out and pressed against his skin. He tried to reach for his wand, but was thrown to the side as a Stunner came at Harry.

“RUN!” Jamie yelled, throwing the cloak off of him. He ran down the stairs, and shoved Voldemort out of the way, the Dark Lord being pushed against a stone banister. Jamie grabbed Harry’s hand and the two ran away from the Dark Lord and Dumbledore, their fighting beginning behind them. The two practically jumped down onto the entrance hall where Corban Yaxley was fighting against Professor McGonagall and Mrs. Weasley. The twins pulled out their wands and aimed them at Yaxley.

“Stupefy!”

“Expelliarmus!”

The two spells melded together and hit the Death Eater in his back. He stumbled and turned to the twins before falling by a nonverbal spell Professor McGonagall casted.

“Harry! Jamie! What are you doing here? Why aren’t you in your dorms?” Mrs. Weasley gasped, running over to them and pulling both in her arms, checking for any bruises.

“Mr. and Mr. Potter, it is not safe here, you both should be in your dorms,” Professor McGonagall said.

“We’re sorry Professor but when we got to the portrait, it was already sealed,” Harry said.

“It matters little now, find somewhere safe to hide boys—”

“Where’s Mr. Malfoy?” Harry said looking but finding no trace of the silver hair. “He’s supposed to be here with Yaxley.”

“How do you know… We have only found Yaxley here—Harry Potter where are you going?” Professor McGonagall yelled as Harry turned and ran down the stairs to the dungeon, taking the steps three at a time, jumping over the last five. Jamie chased him.

The two ran across the dimly lit cold corridor towards the Slytherin Dungeons. They heard screams and saw that a part of the wall at the dead end was blasted off. Harry only ran harder and skid to a halt in front of the blasted wall, the Slytherin Common Room on the other side.

Mr. Malfoy was holding his wand to Draco and Blaise, who held their wands against him. Surrounding them were other Slytherins who were woken by the noise. Mr. Malfoy glanced behind his shoulder to the Potter Twins. “So, this is how you were spending your time during my imprisonment, Draco,” he said, looking extremely crossed and disappointed. “You really do enjoy constantly disappointing your mother and I, do you?”

“Leave him alone,” Harry said.

“Harry, just let me handle it,” Draco said. “He’s my father… I have to do it.”

Mr. Malfoy laughed. “You handle it? And when was the first time you handle anything, Draco? You may have grown in physical size, but you are still my son. I know you—”

“Expelliarmus!” Draco snarled.

Distracted, Mr. Malfoy’s wand flew into the air and landed in Draco’s outstretched hand. He handed it to Blaise, who snapped it in half. Still pointing his wand at Mr. Malfoy he said, “You have no right to tell me what to do anymore. You’ve been gone for half a year! And even when you were home all you talked about was V-Voldemort! You didn’t care for me, did you?”

“I—”

“Did you?” Draco demanded. Behind them the other Slytherins were looking on, some staring disgusted at Draco and Blaise, while others were just watching indifferently.

Mr. Malfoy stared at Draco, a vicious, disgusting look on his face. “I tried to raise you right Draco, I tried to give you the devotion and admiration to the Dark Arts and the Dark Lord that I have… but not only have I seemingly failed in that, I somehow turned you into a poof as well. So no, in this current rebellious state you are in, I do not care for you, I am just disappointed.”

Draco’s eyes turned into two angry slows that blazed with silver anger. Dark shadows appeared on his forehead and under his eyes, as if a mask of Draco’s own making was slipped on. Aiming his wand at his father, he hissed an angry, disgusting noise, “Stupefy!” There was a gasp as the spell hit Mr. Malfoy, some of the braver Slytherins yelled at Draco but he ignored them.

The man was thrown back a couple of feet in the air before falling to the ground unconscious. At that moment Professor McGonagall arrived and looked at the situation. “Are there anyone hurt?” she asked.

“No, Draco took care of it,” Harry said looking at his boyfriend with, a breath of relief escaping him.

“What exactly happened here?”

“That poof attacked his own father!” someone from the crowd of Slytherins yelled. Professor McGonagall turned his stern face onto the crowd and said, “When I would like your version of the events happening, I will tell you Miss Parkinson. Now, boys, what happened here?”

“Mr. Malfoy destroyed the wall like a madman and started screaming for Draco,” Blaise said. “He looked he was about to kill him when Harry and Jamie showed up.”

“I see… Potters, if you would kindly escort Mr. Malfoy to the Great Hall, I will repair the wall,” Professor McGonagall said, already pointing her wand at the broken wall. The twins just nodded and together lifted the unconscious man. He was heavy for Harry but luckily Jamie took most of the weight.

“Harry!”

Jamie!”

Draco and Blaise squeezed past Professor McGonagall to hug their boyfriends tightly. Blaise kissed Jamie’s cheek and whispered, “Don’t you dare get hurt out there.”

Jamie smirked and said, “You know me Blaise, no one’s allowed to hurt me.” Blaise just gave a sad chuckle and shook his head. “We’re going to have to work on your attitude when all of this is done,” he whispered.

“Potter… if you die out there, I swear I’ll bring you back to life just to kill you myself,” Draco threatened. Harry smiled and kissed Draco. “I love you too,” he whispered. “Now… your dad’s kinda heavy… and you have to make sure the Slytherins don’t do anything stupid.”

“Oh please, a bunch of dunderheads and idiots, they are,” Draco said. “Good luck.” He kissed Harry again and the two Slytherins returned to the common room.

They moved quickly, running as quickly as they could with the man slowing them down. Above them the fighting was continuing, the sounds of spells ricocheting off of each other filling the castle, mixing with the chaos and confusion as suddenly fires seemingly start out of nowhere and segments of the castle fell. They dropped Mr. Lucius in front of the doors and ran up the stairs towards the fighting.

They reached the second floor only for a fighter detached themselves from the fray and flew at them; It was the werewolf, Fenrir. He was on top of Harry before Harry could raise his wand: Harry fell backward, with filthy, matted hair in his face, the stench of sweat and blood filling his nose and mouth hot greedy breath at his throat—

“Petrificus Totalus!”

Harry felt Fenrir collapse against him; with a stupendous effort he pushed the werewolf off and onto the floor as a jet of green light came flying towards them; Jamie ducked and pulled Harry as they ran, headfirst, into the fight. Harry’s feet met something squashy and slippery on the floor and he stumbled: There were two bodies lying there, lying facedown in a pool of blood, but there was no time to investigate. Harry looked up at Jamie and yelled, “We have to find Voldemort and Dumbledore!”

Jamie nodded and they began running, shooting spells whenever they could at every Death Eater they see. They ran across the lumpy Death Eater Amycus fighting Tonks. Jamie whipped his wand and said, “Impedimenta!”

His jinx hit Amycus in the chest: He gave a piglike squeal of pain, was lifted off his feet and slammed into the opposite wall, slid down it, and fell out of sight. “Good hit Jamie!” Tonks said before running off to fight more Death Eaters. The twins followed her as they ran out of the castle and into the courtyard where Dumbledore and Voldemort were.

The courtyard was in shambles. The doors to the entrance hall lay in shambles, large splinters of wood shot out all over the courtyard and into the grounds. The roofs over the walkways on the edge of the courtyard had all collapsed, their pieces being used by Voldemort to fly violently at Dumbledore, who blocked every stone, tile, and pillar. Transfigured blades and other sharp objects flew around the air, flying towards Dumbledore before being deflected and landing around them. There were gigantic cracks in the floor, as if entire sections were lifted from the ground. The wind whipped violently around both Voldemort and Dumbledore as they fought, Dumbledore summoning the wind to deflect Voldemort’s projectiles. Voldemort raised both of his hands, the pillars and swords flew into the air and transfigured together to form a stone Basilisk, the swords acting as its teeth. The Basilisk launched at Dumbledore, its mouth opened wide as it looked to gobble the Headmaster whole. Dumbledore pointed his wand at the stone Basilisk and in a magnificent explosion, stone and swords flying everywhere. Harry and Jamie had to quickly cast the Protego spell as sharp shards of stone and steel pelted towards them. They began to run towards Voldemort and Dumbledore only to see other figures fighting to their left. Bellatrix Lestrange was there, fighting Mrs. Weasley who sported a large cut on her cheek.

“Mrs. Weasley!” Jamie yelled. The twins ran to her aid, Bellatrix Lestrange laughing. “Ohh if it isn’t the little Potters. Having fun betraying everyone, boys?”

“Mrs. Weasley, go back into the castle, we’ll handle her!” Harry yelled.

“No! You two go back—”

“Molly! Let’s go!” Tonks yelled. Mrs. Weasley gave the boys a look and said, “You better come back, I swear,” before running with Tonks back into the castle.

Lestrange laughed harder and said, “What are you two going to do against me?”

Harry looked around and saw that there was no one else. Only the twins and Lestrange, and Dumbledore and Voldemort. Harry attacked first, yelling, “Stupefy!”

His stunner shot at Bellatrix, but was quickly deflected. She laughed as she whipped her wand, and Jamie barely had time to protect them both from a strange grey spell. Behind them scratch marks appeared suddenly. Harry moved past his brother shield and shot another stunner, Jamie followed up with the Impedimenta spell. Bellatrix turned to smoke and the spells flew past her. She solidified the next second and with a whip of her wand, the twins were sent flying back, both screaming as deep cuts gashed their bodies, somehow missing every major artery on both their bodies. Feeling the warm heavy liquid flowing down his face, Harry’s groans in pain turned into high-pitched screams as Bellatrix pointed her wand at both their bodies and yelled, “Crucio!”

Jamie’s and Harry’s bodies contorted in pain, both feeling as if thousands of invisible swords were stabbing them but leaving no wounds. Harry’s mind became numb as all he could feel or think about was the pain that caused him to scream. He couldn’t move on his own, he couldn’t try to counter the spell or move out of the way. He and Jamie just laid there bleeding and screaming as Bellatrix laughed.

“Poor little traitors,” she said. “Is something the matter Potters? Do Potters want their mummy?” She laughed as she continued to torture them. “Crucio! Crucio! Crucio!”

Harry started to feel light-headed, his vision was getting blurry. It took every muscle and strength he had to turn to his brother. “J-J—” He couldn’t speak through his screams. Jamie’s body twitched, his glasses lying next to him, cracked against a rock. Blood was pooling around his head.

“N-N…” Harry screamed. An indescribable rage filled Harry. He found that he was gaining his strength back along with strength that he did not know he had. Jamie’s twitched stopped and Harry screamed only louder. His rage filled his entire body, his fist tightened around his wand. He found the pain going away, slowly but surely the pain was dimming. He moved his hand and it moved as he commanded. With agonizing trouble, Harry rolled from his back to his stomach. He pushed his fists against the broken pavement, cutting his hand on small pebbles and splits in the rocks. His arms were shaking as he slowly rose, Bellatrix Lestrange’s screams went deaf on his ears along with the rest of the battle as he focused all of his energy, all of his concentration on standing up. He was on his hands and knees. He took a deep breath and gritted his teeth as he pulled his right leg towards him, planting his foot on the ground. He pushed, failed, then pushed again. He felt he would collapse under his weight, his legs wouldn’t stay still as the invisible swords continued to stab him from the Unforgivable Curse. He could feel his rage pump through his blood, filling every essence of his being as tears began to fall. Jamie, please not Jamie, he begged in his mind. We drank the potion—we’re supposed to be lucky!

“You… you bitch!” Harry screamed at the top of his lungs, standing fully.

Bellatrix smirked and said, “Aww… is little Potter angry your brother is dead? Poor Potter all alone! First you lost Sirius and now you lost your bro—”

“AVADA KEDAVRA!”

Harry’s arm was pointed straight at Bellatrix Lestrange, his face full of fury as he yelled out the words. The Killing Curse rushed out of his wand, the fatal green jet of light traveling closer and closer to Lestrange, hitting her square in her chest. She fell dead on the spot, her face in a permanent mocking smile. Harry collapsed and ran to his brother, “Jamie! Jamie! Please wake up! Jamie!”

He pulled Jamie to him and hugged his brother’s body. “Jamie! Jamie!” he cried. “Please don’t be dead! Please!” He cried in his brother’s shoulder, only to hear a small groan, barely louder than the wind. “Jamie…” Harry breathed.

He looked at his brother’s bruised, bloody face. Brown eyes barely fluttered open and Harry let out a cheer as he hugged his brother tighter. “Jamie! You’re not gone!” He cried out.

“Help me…up,” Jamie said. Harry shook his head, “No, you need to rest.” He helped Jamie sit against a pile of rubble and picked up his cracked glasses. Jamie placed them on and Harry reached for his wand.

“Later… go finish this,” Jamie said.

Harry nodded and stood up. Voldemort and Dumbledore were still fighting, though from the way they were both panting, it looked as if they were losing energy. Harry stumbled towards them, each step a challenge as he felt like he was going to collapse at any moment. Blood from his forehead was sweeping over his eyes, and he wiped it away, falling down the remains of the steps that led to the entrance hall. He fell on all fours in front of the battling wizards.

“Harry!” Dumbledore said, looking at Harry worryingly. Voldemort took that moment of Dumbledore’s distraction to his advantage. “Avada Kedavra!” he snarled, the killing curse landing its mark on Dumbledore, the old man falling dead before Harry. Harry stared up at Voldemort, the Dark Lord walking slowly towards Harry.

“You’ve killed Lestrange with the Killing Curse… you seemed to play both myself and Dumbledore for your own gains… I must say Harry, you will become a grand Dark Lord,” Voldemort said. “A Dark Lord even greater and more ruthless than me.”

Still on his hands and knees, Harry looked around. His eyed the swords and raised his shaking hand. Voldemort stopped and raised his eyebrow. “Accio swords,” Harry spat out. The swords littering the grounds shook and fly in the air towards Harry. Voldemort didn’t have time to turn around as the countless swords drove through him, being pushed by an invisible force that pushed the swords through his chest, his throat, his head, anywhere that they can fit. One sword remained flying towards Harry and he transfigured it into a crystal vial, catching it in his free hand.

Voldemort slumped and fell. “F…Fool… I cannot die…” he said, his throat and mouth flooding with blood that oozed out and onto the pavement.

“That’s why,” Harry groaned. “I’m taking your memory…”

He stopped next to Voldemort’s dying body and pressed both the vial and his wand next to his temple. Voldemort’s memories leaked out like blood pussing from a wound, gathering in the vail, filling it with the silvery substance. “Don’t worry, I will make a separate journal just for you… My Lord,” Harry whispered, a pained, triumphant smile on his face.

He watched as the life faded from Voldemort’s eyes. He pocketed the vial and struggled to make his way to his brother. He crawled up, his legs barely leaving the ground when he reached Jamie and collapsed next to him.

They woke up in the Hospital Wing. Harry looked to his right to see his brother covered in bandages and sleeping peacefully, Blaise sitting next to his bed. Draco was sitting silently next to Harry, both Slytherins dozing lightly. Harry turned to look to his left to the Mrs. Weasley crying over something, the Weasley clan surrounding them. He moved a little up on his bed to see the unrecognizable face of Bill Weasley, so badly slashed and ripped that he looked grotesque. Fleur was next to him.

“…but he was a very handsome little b-boy… always very handsome ….and he was g-going to be married!”

“And what do you mean by zat?” Fleur said suddenly and loudly. “What do you mean, ‘’e was going to be married?’”

Mrs. Weasley raised her tear-strained face, looking starled, “Well—only that—”

“You theenk Bill will not wish to marry me anymore?” Fleur demanded. “You theenk, because of these bites, he will not love me!”

“No, that’s not what I—”

“Because ‘e will!” Fleur said, drawing herself up to her full height and throwing back her long mane of silver hair. “It would take more zan a werewolf to stop Bill loving me!”

“Well, yes, I’m sure,” Mrs. Weasley said, “but I thought perhaps—given how—how he—”

“You thought I would not weesh to marry him? Or per’aps, you hoped?” Fleur said, her nostrils flaring. “What do I care how he looks? I am good-looking enough for both of us, I theenk! All these scars show is zat my husband is brave! And I shall do zat!” she added fiercely, pushing Mrs. Weasley aside and snatching an ointment from her.

Mrs. Weasley fell back against her husband and watched Fleur mopping up Bill’s wounds with a most curious expression upon her face. Nobody said anything; Harry did not dare move, no one noticed that he was awake.

“Our Great-Aunt Muriel,” Mrs. Weasley said after a long pause, “has a very beautiful tiara—goblin-made—which I am sure I could persuade her to lend you for the wedding. She is very fond of Bill, you know, and it would look lovely with your hair.”

“Thank you,” Fleur said stiffly. “I am sure zat will be lovely.”

And then, Harry did not quite sure how it happened, both women were crying and hugging each other. Harry turned his head towards Draco, to only see the Slytherin was watching him. “Hey,” Draco smiled.

Harry smiled and shook his head. He didn’t want the others to know he was awake, he didn’t want to talk about what happened—how to play it. He motioned for Draco to come closer. “I got it,” he whispered in Draco’s ear. “The memories.”

“I’m so proud of you love,” Draco whispered.

Harry gave a soft smile and looked down at his body, which was covered by the hospital bed covers. “You and Jamie are very lucky to be alive,” Draco said. “Madam Pomfrey found you guys were covered in cuts, a few broken bones, you lost a lot of blood… but nothing major was cut or lost.”

“Guess the luck potion did it’s job,” Harry smiled. “I’m sorry though… our celebration will have to wait.”

Draco chuckled and kissed Harry’s forehead. “As soon as you can stand on your own, I’m fucking you like no tomorrow.”

Harry gave a dry chuckle, “How romantic… how is everyone else?”

“Strange, they’re happy that Voldemort is dead but…”

“They’re sad that Dumbledore is gone as well,” Harry finished for Draco, who nodded.

“My father’s in Azkaban again, for good,” he said.

“That’s good,” Harry slurred. Draco nodded. He looked over at the Weasleys then back at Harry. “The only causalities were Dumbledore, Voldemort, and Bellatrix. The Order went around and got the rest of the Death Eaters.” He gave a soft chuckle. “Scrimgeour actually showed up, trying to take the credit, but that Auror, Shaklebolt I think, and Professor McGonagall refused him. Professor McGonagall claimed to have saw the battle outside.”

“Did she… did she see me using the Killing Curse?” Harry whispered. “Against Lestrange?”

Draco frowned. “No… she just told the Minister that you were on your last bout of strength, which you used to cast a Summoning Charm.”

Harry gave a smile and dry laugh. “Yeah, couldn’t think of anything else,” he said.

Draco chuckled and brushed some hair out of Harry’s eyes. “You are amazingly stupid and stubborn,” he said.

“But you love me,” Harry said.

“Yeah… I do Harry, I love you,” Draco sighed. He kissed the top of Harry’s head again. “The next few days are going to be hectic my love,” he sighed. “You should get all the sleep you can.”

“Alright,” Harry said, “But I want you to kiss me first before I go back to sleep.”

Draco smirked, “Happy to oblige.” He leaned down and gave Harry a soft, gentle kiss on his lips. Harry kissed back with equal gentleness, and fell asleep under Draco’s lips.

Chapter Text

Chapter 18

All lessons were suspended. Some students were hurried away from Hogwarts by their parents over the next couple of days—the Patil twins were gone before breakfast on the morning following Dumbledore’s death and Zacharias Smith was escorted from the castle by his haughty-looking father. Seamus Finnigan, on the other hand, point-blank refused to leave Dean Thomas’s side when his mother came; they had a shouting match in the entrance hall that was resolved when she agreed that he could remain behind for the funeral. Even though the war was over and Voldemort dead, it still felt like a crushing defeat for the Wizarding community because of the lost of Dumbledore.

Harry didn’t really care.

He was too focused on healing to think much on Dumbledore’s death, or Voldemort’s. Sometimes he couldn’t believe that he and Jamie were still alive, that they, he, have bested both Dumbledore and Voldemort, and all it took was a luck potion! Madam Pomfrey released the twins the next day, telling them both that they are lucky to survive without any lasting damages. Draco and Blaise refused to leave the twins alone when they were released, and nobody was in a mood to argue with them when they saw the Slytherins sitting with the Gryffindors.

Rumors spread that witches and wizards were pouring into Hogsmeade preparing to pay their last respects for Dumbledore. Some excitement was caused among the younger students when a powder-blue carriage the size of a house, pulled by a dozen giant winged palominos, came soaring out of the sky in the late afternoon before the funeral and landed on the edge of the forest. Meanwhile, a delegation of Ministry officials, including the Minister of Magic himself, was being accommodated within the castle. Harry and Jamie were diligently avoiding contact with any of them; they were both sure that, sooner or later, they would be asked to account for what happened in the now repaired courtyard. Professor McGonagall have already asked them both once Jamie woke up, and neither were exactly eager to repeat themselves.

The snow kept falling, following traditional January weather. The weather forced Harry and the others to keep inside, but they did not mind. Harry and Draco spent their days sitting in hiding places, enjoying each other’s touches and kisses before talking about topics far away from Dumbledore, Voldemort, and the Dark Arts. Voldemort’s memories were being kept hidden in a pair of Harry’s socks, rolled up and stuffed to the edge of his trunk.

They visited the hospital wing twice a day where Bill remained under Madam Pomfrey’s care. His scars were as bad as ever—in truth, he now bore a distinct resemblance to Mad-Eye Moody, though thankfully with both eyes and legs—but in personality he seemed just the same as ever. All that appeared to have changed was that he now had a great liking for very rare steaks.

“…so eet ess lucky ‘e is marrying me,” Fleur said happily, plumping up Bill’s pillows, “because ze British overcook their meat, I ‘ave always said this.”

The day of the funeral was surprisingly sunny. There was snow still on the ground that glistened in the sunlight, but around where the funeral was taking place it was magically removed, leaving only green grass and seats. Harry heard about there being a fire last night on the grounds, apparently the Ministry have decided to burn Voldemort’s body. “And with good riddance, can you imagine him just springing back to life during the funeral?” Ron said during breakfast. “That would be absolutely terrifying!”

Harry was feeling mostly back to his normal self as they went down to the funeral site. Jamie still needed Blaise’s help to walk long distance, but neither boy minded. The Hogwarts Express would be leaving after the funeral, during which Hogwarts would be closed for a month allowing both the staff and students time to grief and get ready for the change of staff needed. The four Houses were led by their Heads out of the Great Hall, and into the chilly winter air. They were heading, as Harry saw when he stepped out onto the stone steps from the front doors, toward the lake. The brisk air seemed to stop as they walked nearer, the snow melting away until they arrived at the place where hundreds of chairs had been set out in rows. An aisle ran down the center of them: There was a marble table standing at the front, all chairs facing it.

An extraordinary assortment of people had already settled into half the chairs; shabby and smart, old and young. Most Harry did not recognize, but a few he did, including members of the Order of the Phoenix. The Weasley clan took up a whole row, Fleur was supporting Bill, and they were followed by Fred and George who were wearing jackets of black dragon skin and were holding hands. Then there was Madame Maxime, who took up two and a half chairs on her own; Tom, the landlord of the Leaky Cauldron; Arabella Figg, Harry’s neighbor; the Weird Sisters; Ernie Prang, driver of the Knight Bus; Madam Milkin; and some people whom harry merely knew by sight, such as the barman of the Hog’s Head and the witch who pushed the trolley on the Hogwarts Express.

“Dumbledore really touched a lot of people, haven’t he?” Jamie whispered to his twin.

“Yeah… he did,” Harry said. “But, that still doesn’t forgive the man for what he done to us… to you.”

“You were the one with the broken heart, brother,” Jamie said. “I just had to deal with Muggles.” Harry gave a sad smile as they filed into seats at the end of a row beside the lake.

Cornelius Fudge walked past toward the front rows, his expression miserable, twirling his green bowler hat as usual; Harry next recognized Rita Skeeter, who, he was infuriated to see, had a notebook clutched in her red-taloned hand, and then, with a worse jolt of fury, Dolores Umbridge, an unconvincing expression of grief upon her toadlike face, a black velvet bow set atop her iron-colored curls. “Can we do anything to them?” Jamie asked pointing at Umbridge and Skeeter.

“Not unless you want to make a show of yourself,” Harry whispered. He frowned and said, “Remember that time a couple of years ago? When Viktor and I were dating?”

“Yeah.”

“She tried to write an article about us,” Harry said, a sad smile playing his lips. “I remember, she came running towards us when we were in the middle of a snog session… demanding for an interview.”

“What did you two do?”

“Viktor nodded and proceeded to throw her notepad into the lake when she pulled it out,” Harry smiled.

“Harry…”

The smaller twin shook his head, “I’m okay, just remembering. It’s not important. Besides, I got Draco now. I’m happier than ever with Draco.”

“Good,” Draco whispered in Harry’s ear, his arm going around Harry’s shoulder, “because if you weren’t, then I would have to remedy that.” Harry smiled and leaned against his boyfriend’s chest. He turned his head to see Blaise leaning against Jamie, the two whispering to each other.

He felt a small nudge on his shoulder, and looked up at Draco, who pointed. Harry turned his head to see Hagrid walking slowly up the aisle between the chairs. He was crying quite silently, his face gleaming with tears, and in his arms, wrapped in purple velvet spangled with golden stars, was what Harry knew to be Dumbledore’s body. He watched unemotionally.

They could not see clearly what was happening at the front. Hagrid seemed to have placed the body carefully upon the table. Now he retreated down the aisle, blowing his nose with loud trumpeting noises that drew scandalized looks from some. Harry tried to make a friendly gesture towards Hagrid as he passed, but Hagrid’s eyes were so swollen it was a wonder he could see where he was going. The sight of the half-giant’s misery made Harry sadder than the whole funeral.

A little tufty-haired man in plain black robes had got to his feet and stood now in front of Dumbledore’s body. Harry could not hear what he was saying. Odd words floated back to them over the hundreds of heads. “Nobility of spirit” … “intellectual contribution” …”greatness of heart” …It didn’t mean much.

“Harry, what do you plan to do? With his memories?” Jamie whispered to him. Harry turned, keeping his head on Draco’s chest.

“I’m going to watch them,” he whispered. “I don’t know how many of those awful things he had left… I am going to find them all and destroy them.”

“Well, there is no way you are going to do it alone,” Jamie whispered. Harry did his best to suppress a grin.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” he said. There was movement from both the lake and forest. The merpeople and centaurs both came to pay their respects. They did not move or speak, but Harry saw them standing quite still, the centaurs half hidden in shadow, their bows hanging at their sides and the merpeople’s heads stuck out of the water, listening.

“When this is done, when this is all over, we are heading to a place where we can be alone,” Draco whispered in Harry’s ear. Harry just nodded, relaxing under Draco’s touches.

The little man in black had stopped speaking at last and assumed his seat. Harry waited for someone else to talk; he expected speeches, probably from the Minister, but nobody moved.

Then several people screamed. Bright, white flames had erupted around Dumbledore’s body and the table upon which it lay. Higher and higher they rose, obscuring the body. White smoke spiraled into the air and made strange shapes; Harry thought, for one heart-stopping moment, that he saw a phoenix fly joyfully into the blue, but next second the fire had vanished. In its place was a white marble tomb, encasing Dumbledore’s body and the table on which he had rested.

Harry looked at Draco, Blaise, and Jamie. They were rather stoic, all contemplating on the events they personally have started. Harry leaned forward to see both Hermione and Ginny crying openly, and Ron’s face was screwed up as though the sunlight was blinding him. People were starting to get to their feet and the buzz of conversations began to grow. Harry and Draco stood up and told Jamie and Blaise that they would meet up later before walking away.

Together they avoided everyone on their way back to the castle. Draco led them into the dungeons, down the corridor, and into the Slytherin Common Room at the end of the corridor. It was strangely empty, but Harry half expected it as everyone else was still loitering around outside. Draco continued to guide through the common room, and towards a spiraling staircase which led down to the boy’s dormitory. Stepping inside the empty room, Draco closed the door and magically locked it. “Strip,” he commanded.

Harry looked at Draco, slightly confused.

“You heard me Potter, strip,” Draco growled out. Harry nodded and took a step from Draco. He took off his winter cloak, his tie and shirt, revealing his smooth, taunt skin. He stood in his underwear, waiting for Draco to take off his clothes. But instead Draco turned Harry around and gave his ass a light slap. “All of it Potter,” he growled.

Harry nodded and quickly pulled off his underwear, revealing his hardening cock. Draco circled around him, eyeing Harry carefully. “You’re so beautiful Harry,” Draco breathed. “Beautiful, and mine.”

“Yours,” Harry nodded.

“But not officially,” Draco sighed. “But you will soon, hopefully. Keep still.”

Harry watched confused as Draco walked towards his bed. He knelt over his trunk, his back to Harry, and pulled something out. Draco stood up, closing the trunk, and returned to Harry. “Harry Potter…” he breathed. “Harry bloody Potter… our history is weird, confusing, and just straight confounding but that doesn’t change the fact that I love you, and I want to be with you for the rest of our lives. So, Harry, this day has gotten to a sad start… but will you at least make it the happiest day in my life?” Much to Harry’s shock, Draco got to one knee in front of him and pulled out a small black box. Opening it, he asked, “Harry, will you marry me?”

The ring was simple but Harry didn’t care. A smile graced his face as he nodded. “Yeah… yes Draco!” he said.

Their hands shaking, Draco reached for Harry’s right hand and slipped the ring on. They admired the look of the ring on Harry’s finger for a moment before Draco gave a smirk. “Now for the reason you’re naked, Harry Malfoy,” he purred. And in one expert move, he swallowed Harry’s flaccid length. He licked and sucked at Harry’s cock, his hands moving around Harry’s body, one fondling his balls while the other went around to tease at Harry’s hole.

“Draco!” Harry gasped, his cock hardening in Draco’s mouth. Draco started to bob his head, licking the fully-hard length before slurping it out. Silently they moved together to get rid of Draco’s clothes, and the next moment Harry knew, Draco was in him fully, his ass squeezing greedily at Draco’s hard, thick cock. Both boys moved with an animalistic pace, Harry bent over Draco’s bed, holding onto the frame for support as Draco bent over him. This was not the time for slow, sweet love making, no this was a time of need, a time of passion. They needed to feel each other, they needed to own each other fully. Draco’s arms were wrapped around Harry’s chest, rutting and burying his cock deep into Harry’s needy ass. They both came too soon, Draco jerking Harry’s cock was he felt their pressure build, Harry’s cum spilling over Draco’s hand as Draco came deep inside Harry. Feeling drained, they turned and kissed each other.

“I love you Draco Malfoy,” Harry breathed.

“And I love you, Harry Malfoy,” Draco said, both boys feeling like the world, for that small moment, was perfect.

Five Years Later

The Malfoy-Zabini Manor, formally known only as the Malfoy Manor, was home to both the Malfoy and Zabini families. The formally Potter twins, now known as Harry Malfoy and Jamie Zabini, couldn’t stand the idea of living away from each other so after many nights of persuasion, the two families joined under one roof. It worked out for the best for both families as the Manor was too big for the Malfoy family of two, and both Draco and Harry were a little excited to live with Jamie and Blaise again. Besides, Blaise and Jamie needed all the help they could get with their children.

It was a sunny summer morning, and Draco was in the dining room drinking his morning coffee. It was part of his morning ritual, sitting in the dining room before everyone else woke up. The sound of small footsteps filled the room and he turned to see a three-year-old making his way into the room. He was tall for his age, about the size of a regular five-year-old with light-dark skin, brown eyes and short black hair. “Good morning, Antonio,” Draco said looking at his nephew. “What are you doing up?”

“I’m hungry, Uncle Draco,” Antonio said as he climbed into a children’s seat. Draco waved his wand and a cup of milk poured itself for the toddler. He began to drink it but Draco cleared his throat, “What do we say, Antonio?”

“Thank you,” the young boy said. Draco smiled and said, “You’re welcome.”

He returned to his coffee and tapped against the table twice. A house-elf appeared and Draco said, “Please get our breakfast ready, thank you.” The elf bowed before disappearing. There was a tapping at the window and Draco and Antonio turned to see several owls holding letters waiting to get in. With another wave of his wand, the window opened and Antonio laughed with glee as the owls all flew in at once with a flash of feathers and left a small stack of letters in front of Draco. Draco began sorting them out, leaving letters for Blaise and Jamie in one pile and letters for himself and Harry in another. He paused to see a couple of letters from both his parents, his father was still in Azkaban and his mother moved into another house. He torn them up without a thought.

He stopped at a hand-written letter for Harry and bit his lip. Going against his senses, he opened the letter and began to read it.

Harry,

Hello, it’s Cormac McLaggen. I know that it must be weird to hear from me after all this time… I understand if you never thought of me since Hogwarts. And I also understand that you would never want to think or talk to me ever again, but I have a few things to get off of my chest. My therapist told me that this letter would help, I’ve been seeing her for the last five years for my anger and there are some things that I just wanted to explain to you that I didn’t get the chance before.

I grew up in a hateful, jealous, competitive environment. My father was under my uncle’s shadow his entire life, even though he was the older of the two. In his lifetime he had built up a lot of unrestrained rage which he placed on myself and my mother. I was taught that being a homosexual was wrong, that I was not allowed to be gay; that I was to marry a wife, get a good, well-paying job and become successful, more successful than my uncle, whom I spent most of my time with. My childhood had lead me to have views that were awful, wrong, and in the end harmful both to myself and others. On our date I’ve laid too much on you, I’ve allowed my father’s anxieties and rage to control me and in the end, it led to a downward spiral. I lost a lot after that. I’ve let my father’s insecurities take control of my life and in the end it not only made me push everyone I knew and care about away, it also almost ended my life. I am not trying to blame my father, I know that I have responsibility, that I am not blameless. My therapist and I work tirelessly to take away this rage that I’ve inherited and grew up with. And I am happy to say that I am a changed man because of her, along with the other people in my lives.

That night on the Astronomy Tower when I was thinking of doing the most stupid action of my life, I was stopped by someone. A boy. We talked, I found out he was in Hufflepuff, your year even, and after talking all night, we walked away. And now here we are happily married. I am doing so well in my life now. I’m happy, I run a small flying school for young children where they learn to fly and play Quidditch on these cute broomsticks that can only go a couple of feet in the air. We’re expecting our first child. Life, life is really good Harry. Not for me, but just in general. Ever since that night I’ve gained a new appreciation for living and… and I just want to say thank you.

Thank you Harry.

I know that it would never have worked between us. I was not in the right mindset to consider a serious relationship. I was too mentally unstable because of my upbringing. I know that because of our history, this might never happen but I want us to try again. As friends. I want to start over, maybe you and your husband can meet me and mine over a cup of coffee or something. It doesn’t have to be now, it doesn’t have to be serious, but I just want to open that door, just in case you want to take it.

I am deeply sorry for all the sorrow and harm that I have caused Harry, I know that a single letter isn’t nearly enough to balance all of that. But I want to try. I really believe that if you can give me the chance, that I could one day make up to you the wrongs that I’ve caused. Besides, Ernie would love to see you again. He looks very pretty with a pregnant belly, it’s amazing what potions can do nowadays. … but I digress.

I hope that your life is going good, I hope that you are honestly, truly happy with the life you’re living, Harry. And though I am an awful, black blot in your life, I hope that you give me the chance to make up.

My therapist was right, I do feel better after writing this. It’s like a weight has been lifted from my shoulders and soul.

Hope you are well,

Cormac McLaggen & Ernie McLaggen neè Macmillan

“Uncle Draco, why do you look like Sirius when he poops?” Antonio asked. Draco looked up at his nephew, not realizing that he was scowling. Food was on the table and the three-year-old was happily eating a rather syrupy piece of pancake.

“Don’t worry about it,” Draco said. “And I do not look like your little brother, thank you very much.”

The boy just shrugged and continued eating. Draco looked down at the letter and frowned. Without thinking twice he tore the letter in half, its shreds joining Mr. and Mrs. Malfoys’ letters. He placed them on his empty plate and, with a touch of his wand, they burst into flames, curling inwards towards each other as they blackened and turned to soot. Draco magicked the remains away when the fire died out and continued looking through the letters, one of them was a picture of Ron and his husband Colin who currently looked heavily pregnant with their triplets.

“Good morning, Antonio,” Harry’s happy voice said as he walked in. Draco looked up from the mail and kissed his husband when Harry got near him. “Anything for me?” he asked.

“No, but Ron sent us a picture of him and Colin,” Draco said handing the picture to Harry.

“Blimey! Colin looks ready to burst any moment now! You sure that’s just triplets he’s carrying?” Harry asked.

“They swear, but you should know love, you check them yourselves,” Draco said.

“I know but I can miss one, it’s known to happen,” Harry said. He sat down and pated Draco’s arm. Despite it being summer, Draco wore a long-sleeved shirt. He always wore long-sleeve shirts no matter the time of year. Only Harry was allowed to see his arms.

Antonio swallowed the bite he was chewing and asked, “Uncle Harry when am I going to have a cousin?”

“Not for a long time, Ant,” Harry chuckled, his hand going to his flat stomach.

“But you said that yesterday! I want to be a cousin now!” the three-year-old pouted.

“Antonio, sweetie, your uncle is only a couple of months pregnant,” Draco said. “It is going to take some time before he’s ready.”

“How long?” Antonio pouted.

The two men shared a look. “A long time, but don’t worry Antonio, they’ll be here before you know it,” Harry smiled.

“And we’ll lose any chance of sleeping again,” Draco muttered. Harry chuckled and slapped his shoulder. “After breakfast, meet me in my study, will you, Draco?” Harry asked.

“Why?”

“It’s a surprise,” Harry hummed filling his own plate. He turned to his nephew and said, “And how did you sleep tonight?”

“Good! But Sirius kept crying,” Antonio said. “And then Dad and Daddy have to pick him and up have him sleep in their bed!”

“And leave you all to yourself?” Harry gasped.

“I’m a big boy! I don’t need Dad and Daddy to fall asleep!” Antonio bragged. “Sirius is a baby and needs help!”

“I see, but sleeping with your Dad and Daddy is okay when you’re scared,” Harry said. “I remember when I was young, whenever I was afraid I used to sleep with your Daddy.”

“You did?”

“Yup,” Harry smiled.

“How did you guys fit? Daddy’s huge!” Antonio said, spreading his arms as wide as he could.

“Your Daddy was a lot smaller back then,” Harry chuckled. Draco chuckled and silently watched as Harry talked with his nephew throughout breakfast. He was going to be an excellent parent.

After breakfast, Draco followed Harry into his study. It was a large room with open windows. On the walls were various news clippings of all the accomplishments both he and Jamie have done. Against a wall in a heavily warded glass case was a golden locket, a silver tiara, a cup, and a ring with a black gemstone. They all were in pieces except for the Locket, which was Harry’s current test subject. On either side of the glass case were bookshelves filled with heavy tomes of every type of magic available from the simplest healing charms to the Darkest of Dark Arts. Harry’s desk was a mess: papers cluttered everywhere, tomes opened to random pages and broken quills scattered on the floor.

Harry turned on his feet and smiled at Draco. Taking his wand he held out his free hand and said, “I’ve figured it out! Give me your arm.”

Draco did so and Harry gently held it in his left hand as he slowly pulled Draco’s sleeve up to his shoulder, revealing the white piece of cloth that he wears daily on his arm. Harry slowly unrolled it, revealing creamy pale skin only blemished by a fading Dark Mark. The cloth was dropped to the floor and Harry looked apprehensively at Draco. The blond nodded and Harry pressed his wand against Draco’s forearm.

Incredible pain surged through Draco’s body, his gritted his teeth as he kept his eyes locked onto his forearm. Harry was muttering under his breath and agonizingly slowly pulled his wand down Draco’s arm. It felt like his skin was being fried alive before violently pulled off, agonizing every nerve Harry’s wand past. It reached the top of the Dark Mark, and it slowly faded out of existence, leaving nothing but milky skin. The rest of the mark followed afterwards, disappearing with the same agonizing pain that made Draco want to scream, but didn’t. When the last of the Dark Mark disappeared, Harry moved fast. He pulled his wand from Draco’s skin and rushed to get a potion as Draco gave a howl of pain. Harry handed him a vial which he downed instantly, the pain magically going away.

They stared at the results. “It’s gone! It’s actually gone!” Draco said in disbelief.

“We did it… it’s amazing!” Harry said. They hugged and kissed each other deeply. Harry grabbed Draco’s arm and held it up for them both to see. “A new beginning,” he said, looking up at his husband.

“Yeah, a new beginning… just the three of us.”