Showing posts with label fanfiction. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fanfiction. Show all posts

Thursday, October 11, 2007

Property - Chapter Sixteen

The golden summer sunset heralded the darkness of the night. Naraku was a sharp, clear shadow against the last warm rays. Fitting, Kikyou thought, and poetic. There was a sense of finality, which wasn't so strange when she considered the bodies lying around her—the body lying in front of her. But there was also a strange sense of a fitting ending.

After all, if only Kikyou hadn't distrusted Inuyasha. If only she had kept faith. If only she had loved him enough...

But it was, of course, too late for all of that now. And not only did she pay for her mistakes, Inuyasha paid, and Kagome paid, and Sesshoumaru, and it seemed that if Naraku made his wish, the whole world would have to pay for her mistakes.

She was never meant to be a priestess.

Kikyou stared at the scene before her, red like the last, dying rose. And she waited for Naraku's wish to manifest.

But the sun only set further beneath the mountains, a bare shimmer of pink and purple against the black of the mountains.

A crow squawked in the distance.

And then Kikyou saw that Kagome was rushing Naraku with nothing but her own body. Naraku was probably as shocked as Kikyou because he simply stood there and let Kagome approach him.

Kagome was glowing, pink like the Tama used to glow, and there was a firework of pink sparks and glowing ashes when she finally collided with Naraku’s fur-covered figure.

The next Kikyou saw, there were hundreds of spiders crawling from where Naraku. They scattered across the grass and skittered over Kagome's body. Kagome's fallen, unmoving body.


Sesshoumaru prepared for the spiders to reach him and then... coalesce into Naraku, perhaps. Or simply bite him piece by piece. Whichever it was, though, it couldn't hurt more than seeing Kagome collapse before his eyes as he lay there, helpless. He wouldn't give up without a fight, Sesshoumaru knew, and Naraku was going to hurt before he finished Sesshoumaru.

Naraku was going to hurt because he had hurt Kagome.

But then the spiders just scattered away from him, barely grazing the edges of his clothes. They blended in with the night and he was left with only the awful silence.

It wasn't silent, though, because he could hear sobbing and pained breathing from those around him who were fortunate enough to still live.

From Kagome, he could hear nothing at all. He could still make out her form on the grass, but there were no sounds from her.

From Inuyasha, he could hear nothing at all either, but only smell the blood draining out of his brother's body.

That was far worse to him than what he knew of the other casualties, because he couldn't tell if Kagome was still alive or not. He couldn't know if he should keep hoping or not.

And because it was Kagome.

He had finally, finally found her again and everything had been perfect for a single moment before it had all gone wrong. He was meant to pay penance, perhaps, for doubting Inuyasha, or for thinking of hurting Kagome. He had made his mistakes.

But Kagome shouldn't have to pay for them.

Slowly, he forced himself up, supported by Tenseiga, and limped to where Kagome lay in the grass. Carefully, he knelt next to her and brushed a stray lock of blood-crusted hair from her pale cheek. Her cheek was warm, Sesshoumaru found.

But she wasn't breathing.

There was that great anger welling up in him, the same kind of anger he had found when Kagome had repudiated him. Again, Kagome had been wrenched away from him. Only this time...

No, Sesshoumaru thought fiercely, desperately clutching the Tenseiga by his side, it was not going to end like this. Naraku was defeated. They had won. They had won against his father's enemy and it would be a happy ending, not one with so many deaths and so much sorrow.

But then, just like last time, the anger seeped out of him. The Tenseiga stole it away, and left him nothing but an empty shell. A bit of disappointment, perhaps, but certainly nothing more.

Then, Kagome coughed.


Kagome hurt.

She hurt worse than that time Naraku attacked her in the woods. It felt like she had died and then come back to life. Which, she thought when she saw Sesshoumaru's stricken expression, could be closer to the truth than she cared for it to be.

"Sesshoumaru...?" Kagome croaked as she tried to make out her surroundings, but it was all dark and she couldn't really see anything. "What happened?"

Sesshoumaru seemed startled by her question and he knelt close by her, not quite daring to touch her, afraid that she would disappear or break into little pieces. "You killed Naraku," he told Kagome.

"Is... everyone okay?" Kagome asked.

No. But then, Sesshoumaru saw Miroku struggling to sit up, and pulled back down by his volumous monk robe. And Inuyasha's youki flared back to life, even as Sesshoumaru looked at Inuyasha's unmoving body. "Yes, everybody's still alive."

"That's good." Kagome smiled and then fainted.


Kagome managed to sleep for a week before she could sit up and eat real food.

Sesshoumaru had brought said food, which was apple sauce, of all things. But she supposed that she should be grateful that he decided to bring her something easy to eat. Now, he sat attentively by her bed as if he didn't have anywhere else to be.

And she knew that she was in her old room at her father's palace. She could see out into the garden.

"Marry me," Sesshoumaru said suddenly as she ate the apple sauce.

Kagome was so surprised that she could only look at him blankly.

"I want us to be together for the rest of our lives, and I want everybody to know that we belong to each other. I thought I had lost you when we fought Naraku, and I don't want to ever feel that way again. Ever."

Kagome looked at him, startled.

It was Sesshoumaru who looked away first. "I... I love you, Kagome."

"Oh, I love you, too," Kagome replied. "Of course I love you. But how are you going to be the Lord of Western Lands if you marry me? Inuyasha is a hanyou, and you know how they react to hanyou heirs."

"I don't care," Sesshoumaru said fiercely. "I don't need them."

Kagome looked down at her blanket. "But they need you."

Sesshoumaru stood up and looked at her, and she thought she felt her heart break with his cold look. "Fine, then. If that is your answer."

She stayed silent and watched him walk out of her room, a straight back, an elegant turn of his yukata.


Inuyasha and Kikyou married each other soon after Kagome woke up. They held hands and were always seen together. It was as if they were making up for all their lost time when Kikyou had misunderstood what had happened.

Everywhere Kagome went, she could Kikyou's tinkling laughter or Inuyasha's petulant "keh" as they lazed around and did nothing. Inuyasha never had had any duties except to wait on Kikyou and as the Tama was lost again and Kagome was proven to be its keeper anyways, Kikyou had no duties as part of the Higurashi house other than to be a part of it.

Kikyou didn't seem to mind.

When Kagome saw the couple, she was happy for them. She told herself that she was honestly happy for them, but always, she would feel the need to retreat back to her own rooms, because the sun was too bright or the air too still.

One day, Kikyou confronted her. "Why are you still here? Why aren't you with Sesshoumaru?"

Kagome hadn't thought that Kikyou had seen her at all. "His people need him."

"But you need him, too." Kikyou made a little frustrated frown. "Why do you want to force yourselves to be apart from each other when you know and he knows and we all know that you should be together?"

Kagome sighed and turned away from Kikyou. "His people need him more."

Kikyou took a deep breath, as if needing extra patience to speak with Kagome. Kagome wished that she would just leave. "How do you think his people need him?" Kikyou asked Kagome. "Touga is still alive and well. Sesshoumaru is only the heir. And besides, if his people need him, and he needs you, then his people need you, too."

Kagome sighed again and shook her head. "It doesn't work like that."

"Of course it does," Kikyou rebutted sharply and then stalked back to Inuyasha, as if that was as long as her patience lasted.


Sango didn't care about bad luck or anything of the sort. She made sure that she knew where Miroku was every minute of every day between the end of the battle and her wedding to Miroku a month after their victory. Even so, she threatened all sorts of nasty things if Miroku ran away again, which he promised quite earnestly that he had no intention of doing.

Kagome broke down crying when they finally promised themselves to each other, because it was so beautiful. She offered her congratulations and after the banquet, went back to her room and couldn't stop crying.


It was just like that, that Kagome's resolve broke. She supposed that maybe she was never very strong-willed in the first place, but her heart ached too much for Sesshoumaru.

It was perhaps not good for his relationship between him and his people if she sought him out, but if he loved her—and he had told her that he did—then he must hurt as least half as much as she does. And she would not inflict that on him.

Kikyou was right, Kagome rationalized. If they needed him and he needed her, then they would have to accept her, no matter what.

So, with that in mind, she set out to find Sesshoumaru.


Kagome never quite reached the Western Lands. She stopped at Kouga's cave and he solicited her help for healing his wolves. Most of those who had not died in the battle against Naraku were well already, but there were the few who still suffered from a broken knee or a shattered bone that was not set back right in time. So Kagome used her priestess powers and healed these wolves.

Though she was anxious to find Sesshoumaru, the thought that she was going to meet him eased her heart. And besides, Kouga was an ally and she considered him a friend. So, she did this and stayed there for three days.

On the third day, she woke up to noises that signified the flurry of activity going on outside. Blearily, she woke up and stepped out of her chamber and froze.

Sesshoumaru was there.

Then, she found herself hugging him desperately. It felt as if they had stayed apart for a lifetime instead of a mere month and a half.

"Sesshoumaru," she cried.

His arms tightened around her. "Kagome," he murmured to her hair. "Oh, Kagome, say that you will marry me. I know you came this way to find me, because you are not at your father's palace, so you cannot mean to deny me again."

How Kagome wanted to say yes. Maybe she even meant to say yes when she traveled in search of Sesshoumaru, but now that the reality was upon them, she could find nothing to say.

"I would," Kagome finally replied. "But when we are both old and weary of purposeless lives, you will be blaming me for having had to give up your place and your land for me. And you may say that you will have no regrets, but you will, because that is the way of it."

"No, I won't," Sesshoumaru declared just as Kagome had expected. "First of all, you should let me choose what I am willing to give up. Secondly, I would rather that I regret it later than to not have you at all. And besides, I don't have to give up anything anyways."


In the end, Sesshoumaru and Kagome married. Sesshoumaru completed the mating vows. Touga admitted to his well-meant mistakes and decided to step down and made Sesshoumaru the Lord of the Western Lands.

It turned out, that the reason that there were so few hanyous was not because youkai and humans do not like each other or that they are separated. Rather, if the mating vows were completed, all the children from the couple are either entirely youkai or entirely human.

Sesshoumaru forced his subjects to respect Kagome, partly by ordaining so and partly by telling them of how Kagome defeated Naraku. Eventually, they admired Kagome, too, because she was willing and able to heal youkai that all other healers have already given up on, and to deliver youkai babies, which were especially difficult since youkai babies seemed to be born twice as large as human babies.

Souta ended up as the Higurashi heir anyways. He told Shippou quite ambitiously that he would get rid of all the blood-bonds humans imposed on youkai. Shippou cried, and threw a tantrum that Souta hated him and he wanted Kagome back.

Kikyou remained the High Priestess. But in no way did her life remain the same, because she and Inuyasha were together and happy now, truly. And anywhere they went in the garden, the plants seemed to flourish and the flowers bloomed wider answering Kikyou's good mood.

Kagome and Sesshoumaru's first child was a boy youkai, with straight black hair and pretty gold eyes. He was named the Taiyoukai heir.

~FIN~


Author’s Notes: Well, I think this is my first finished long story. For those of you who have waited (some of you up to a year, I think) for me to go through the edits, I apologize. But I went through it—it was weird reading my own story and not remembering much of what happened—and now it’s officially done. It’s going on the shelf. :) It’s a good feeling.

The first story was both harder and easier than I imagined. I had thought that the whole story would flow right through, but I encountered several very bad writer's blocks in the middle. But it was easier because I thought I always thought that decent authors were few and far between. I found, though, that when you could see it in your head, it's only natural to write it out on paper.

I appreciate all the readers, especially those who have reviewed. Without you, I would not have finished writing the story.

Some things might not be clear. So, I wanted to clear it up.

1.) The Tama did not work for Naraku because Kagome had already made a wish on it. She wished that she would have the strength to leave Sesshoumaru, and it’s considered a selfless wish, because she did not wish for it to be easy or painless, just that she would.

2.) Kagome’s dreams—a completely useless subplot, except as another way that Sesshoumaru could protect her—foretold of the cycle that the Higurashi’s and the Taiyoukai's were doomed to repeat over and over again unless the Shikon no Tama was destroyed. But... it was never quite necessary to explain it in the story.

3.) Yes, Shippou is still blood-bound at the end of the story. He likes the security that somebody cares for him. Since he hasn’t reached puberty, he isn’t bound quite by the same rules. Kagome “gave” him to Souta, since she was leaving. Hmm... wonder if anything would happen to Shippou and Souta... Hmm...

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Property - Chapter Fifteen

Sesshoumaru was rubbing soothing circles on her back and trailing his soft, sweet kisses from her eyes to her nose to her neck. Kagome had missed this, she just realized, as she twisted to meet his mouth with hers. She had dreamt about this and forgotten, she thought, as she felt his tongue dance with hers.

It was a balmy spring day, full of sunshine. A zephyr entwined their hair as Sesshoumaru pulled Kagome down onto the dewy grass. He landed gracefully, carrying both of their impact.

When Kagome opened her eyes again, though, it was to see his gold eyes staring intently at her and his silver hair drifting lazily in the clear, blue sky. She smiled tentatively at him.

His lowered his forehead against hers and gave her another deep kiss. She found herself grabbing onto him quite tightly when he started pulling away.

"Kagome," his whispered, his voice sounding strangely hoarse. "I..." He stopped as he stared at Kagome's guileless smile and into her sparkling honey eyes. Suddenly, he felt inarticulate with his words and leaned down for another kiss. A kiss would tell her what he felt... what he wanted... what he needed.

Kagome leaned up against him, awkwardly, hoping that he wouldn't stop this time. His hands were warm contrasts against the summer breeze as he slowly, carefully traced her soft body from her bosom to her soft hips.

There was no frenzy this time. No uncertainty of what would happen. To Kagome, it felt as if Sesshoumaru was giving her time to pull away, but she didn't want to pull away. She wanted this. Even if it would be slightly uncomfortable in the end, she wanted the feeling of being one with him, of cocooning and protecting him. She wanted him. She wasn't quite sure how to express herself, though, and instead allowed herself to enjoy his kiss and his hands and his warm weight on herself.

To Kagome's disappointment, he pulled away again. "I shouldn't," he told her, breathing more heavily than usual. He explained, "I shouldn't do this here. Or now."

Kagome knew it was for her own good, but she felt reckless right now. She didn't care. Besides, he might not know about it, but her reputation had already been ruined. But even if she was still the heir, she doubted that she would have stopped them. So, she kissed him, as he had kissed her and her hands found their way to the smooth skin of his broad shoulders.

Vaguely, she noticed that the wind whistled louder and strange tap tap sounds were approaching. It wasn't until Sesshoumaru had stopped moving for several long moments that Kagome noticed the hard tension in his shoulders and arms.

She looked up at him questioningly, but his passionless gaze was fixed elsewhere, where she couldn't see.

She turned to see what had him so entranced, only to have his hold on her tighten. Apparently, she was supposed to stay still.

"What is it?" she asked, assuming that there was a reason that he had stopped. There had better be a good reason.

For several moments, he didn't answer. Then his eyes narrowed and he spat, "Naraku."


Miroku knew that he had bungled things up. He knew that he had hurt Sango. But at least now any of her children would be safe, though it pained him that he would not be the father. At least, he wouldn't hurt her more by staying in her life.

It was better this way. It must be better this way.

The thought of Sango being happy was a double-edged sword, but at least it dulled the sharp agony of their separation. The gaping hole in his hand was nothing compared to gaping hole in his chest.

The gaping hole in his hand would devour the world, though. He would pass down the gaping hole to his son, and his son's son, and so on until the end of his line and thus the end of the world, or the end of Naraku.

He had been so determined to preserve the world that he had sought to sire a son on any woman he met, which he now realized would not be practical, since he most likely wouldn't stay long enough to teach his son about the curse. And he wouldn't want to stay long enough to see the woman hate him, as she inevitably would when she learned how he had hurt their son.

As Sango would, with her protective nature that he loved so much. She would be especially protective of her own son. And he would be the one who hurt him.

But he had just seen some poisonous bees buzzing around the forest—those strange servants of Naraku's—and he could feel the vague pulsations of power. He remembered Naraku... that if he killed Naraku, the curse could be ended as well.

Of course, Naraku had existed for hundreds of years and had yet to be defeated despite the countless who wanted him dead.

Still, Miroku reasoned, Naraku was evil and he should at least try to get rid of Naraku. Who knew, maybe he would even succeed.

And then he could confess to Sango. Surely, she would forgive him. And maybe they could still get married and live together and have baby boys and giggling girls to spoil.

And if he died in the battle against Naraku... Well, he would just be sure to bring the hanyou down with him.

Either way, the curse would end with him and Sango would live happily in a world without impending doom from a gaping hole in somebody's palm, Miroku decided as he followed the strange bees.


Bandits? What bandits? Sango almost felt disappointed as she watched the boomerang slice through the last squealing demon.

She wiped her bloody hands on her pants. The low-level boar demons had already spattered all over her outfit and she would have to burn it anyways. Better the acrid smell on her clothes than on her skin.

She strapped Hiraikotsu onto her back and made ready to return to the taijiya village when Kirara growled low in her throat.

"What is it?" Sango asked.

Kirara was smart enough to understand Sango—at least the tone of her voice, but she could not respond with words. Instead, she growled some more.

Sango waved her hands a bit. "Is it the blood?" she asked and wrinkled her nose sympathetically.

Kirara shook her fur impatiently and continued growling toward the other side of the forest, where Sango had not planned on going.

"More youkai?" Sango guessed.

The produced a little bounce from Kirara.

Sango sighed. "They're on the other side of the forest. We don't even know if they're pests or just some benevolent youki-producer."

Still, Kirara refused to budge.

"Okay," Sango accepted. "So, they're probably not some pretty and harmless youkai if they produce youki this strong. But still, this is none of our business."

So saying, Sango tried to tug Kirara's attention forcibly away from the other side of the forest. Still, Kirara was bigger, heavier, and stronger than Sango and a youkai to boot and Sango accomplished absolutely nothing other than getting some futile exercise.

Finally, Sango gave up. "Fine. You take me to that place with the youkai. If any humans are in immediate danger, I'll do something about it. Otherwise, we're heading straight back home."

Kirara gave a yip of assent, all the while growling, as Sango climbed onto Kirara's back.


"Kukuku," a voice chuckled from where Kagome could not see.

Hastily, she arranged her clothes less revealingly and twisted precariously to see the being called Naraku. From her view on the grass, he seemed to loom above her. Her eyes followed him up, starting with his thick white fur cloak—in this warm weather?—to his ringlets of black hair, which she could barely make out from under his hood.

When Sesshoumaru stood and pulled her up beside him, Naraku took a step forward and his hood fell to unveil his face.

Which, surprisingly, was not very alarming at all. Rather, Kagome thought, Naraku could be considered handsome, in a very slimy sort of way.

But when she looked at Naraku closer, she saw that his features matched those of the man from her nightmares.

A feather swooped down from the sky, and a woman and a girl stepped down from it. One was a willowy woman with red eyes and an elegant fan. The other was a pale specter of white, holding a mirror with the most sincere gravity.

Kagome no longer doubted that these were the three figures in her nightmares, if she had had any before.

Prophetic nightmares, after all.

But she shouldn't be surprised, since she had found out that she was a priestess.

"Give me the Shikon no Tama," Naraku demanded.

Shouldn't there be some sort of preamble? Kagome thought wildly and inanely in her panic. There was always the speech about threatened horrors and potential evils. But there wasn't. So perhaps Naraku wasn't very strong after all.

Or maybe he just didn't need to bluff.

Kagome sat up and pressed against Sesshoumaru's solidity. "You can't have it."

Naraku smiled blandly. "It's of no use to you. You'd only become tainted if you wish on it."

She pointed out defiantly, "The same would happen to you."

This time, Naraku chuckled. "I rather suspect that it can't taint me anymore. See Kagura?" He gestured to the woman with the fan who stood silent and still behind him. "I have her heart. And see Kanna?" He pointed to the other girl, with the mirror. "I have her soul."

Here, Naraku paused and tilted his head a bit to reconsider. "Actually, her soul is my soul... and I don't really have a soul worth mentioning. Either case, you're better off giving the Shikon no Tama."

Kagome found that she was clenching the jewel at her neck. "No."

Naraku took a step toward Kagome. "That's not the right answer," he warned.

Then, before Kagome really realized what was happening, Sesshoumaru pulled her away from Naraku and somehow she had to look past his broad shoulders and long, white hair to see Naraku. A moment later, Naraku and Sesshoumaru were trading blows, but Kagome couldn't follow their motions, they were so fast, and then she couldn't even follow their blurs because Kagura and Kanna were on her.

Just as quickly, though, Kagura and Kanna were gone. Kagura and Inuyasha, who had joined the scene with a series of loud and crude expletives, fought together against Kagura. Kikyou shot arrows into Kanna's mirror, which had started glowing white instead of the usual flat surface of a mirror.

Then, out of nowhere, Miroku joined the fray. The Hiraikotsu preceded Sango, and she caught it smartly when it returned after wiping the air clean of a swarm of poisonous bees.


"Thanks," Miroku breathed when he maneuvered himself next to Sango.

She hadn't known that her Hiraikotsu just saved Miroku's ass, or she probably would have simply left him to his own devices. He still owed her. He'd probably owe her until eternity.

Before she could reply, he approached Naraku again from behind. He thought that he could defeat the hanyou while its attention was focused on Sesshoumaru, but a strange root-like tentacle shot out from under his cape and stabbed through his torso and jettisoned him out into Sango's arms.

He looked up at her irate face and smiled, a bit weakly. "It seems I'm destined to be with you."

Sango grimaced. She did not find his comment at all entertaining. "Good time to make your vows."

His face turned serious. "I want you to know... that I love you."

This made Sango angry. "You're not dying," she declared. "And you can't say that after all that you've done to me."

He smiled and he looked wistful. "I love you. And I am dying. And even if I don't die right now, Naraku's curse will be the end of the world."

"Curse?" Sango asked and felt his head. Usually delirium was from a fever, but it was too soon for a fever to have set in.

"A hole in my hand," he answered. "No, I'm not telling you this so that you will forgive me. I'm telling you because I might die—"

"You won't!"

"I might." Miroku continued serenely, "The hole sucks things up, which is why I'm always wearing this guard over it. But I have no son, and if I die before Naraku dies, the curse cannot be passed on and it will split open my hand and it will suck everything into it until Naraku dies and if Naraku is sucked into the hole, then the world is doomed."

"You're not dying," Sango asserted vehemently.

Miroku tried to grasp Sango's hand, but his strength was leaving him quickly.


Kikyou was shooting soul-ful arrows into Kanna's strange mirror, but it only absorbed her arrows. Still, she thought she was making progress because the girl's face looked more and more strained as she shot more and more arrows into the mirror.

Vaguely, she noticed Inuyasha fighting with Kagura out of her peripheral vision.

She concentrated on shooting arrows into the mirror, though, and it was taxing. She could feel her soul being drained.

She took a second to regroup and gather up more miko power when she found a strange blade coming toward her. From Kagura. Normally, she would defend herself, but she was already staggering under the energy she had had to expand for her arrows.

Kikyou watched it come toward her with a strange dispassion.

Until Inuyasha took the hit for her, his blood making bright splatters on her white shirt.

"You idiot!" She tried to shout at him, but her throat seemed to close up strangely. "What do you think you're doing?"

He grimaced a bit. "Guess I just can't do anything right."

"Why did you do that?"

Inuyasha managed a faint shrug and his customary sheepish look.

"You didn't have to. You shouldn't have." Kikyou found herself strangely agitated. "I didn't ask this of you."

"Not... because of blood-bond," Inuyasha whispered, his breaths coming shorter.

"Why, then?" Kikyou demanded. Her nose felt sore all of a sudden, and runny.

Inuyasha stared at her with those strange gold eyes that had always fascinated her. He took a breath to answer her question, but something caught in his lungs and he started chocking and coughing up blood.

When his coughing finally stopped and he was still again, his eyes were still open and blood was on the corners of his vague smile. But there was no more breath in him.

Inuyasha was hers, Kikyou thought wildly, fiercely. Inuyasha was hers and they just unraveled the puzzle of the past and everything was working out. They had just learned some things about themselves and each other. They were just...

And the bitch took him.

Kikyou felt a strange emotion power her—it must be hate, she thought. Not the pale imitation she had used as a mask for her hurt, but a real, deep-seated, powerful hatred that fueled her as much as love ever did. And then, the wind started listening to her commands and the trees bent to her will. She unleashed something, but it didn't hurt the bitch. It only splintered her fan.

Good enough, Kikyou thought, she had disabled her. Now, she could treat the bitch to a slow, torturous death as she deserved for taking Inuyasha away.

After all, what use did she have for love without Inuyasha?


The battle didn't take long at all. The next moment, Kagome saw that Sesshoumaru was kneeling on one leg, supporting himself with his sword. Sango was leaning against Kirara and held tight to Miroku, who seemed to be murmuring to her. Kikyou stood still and quiet and expressionless, and a few feet in front of her lay Inuyasha, with the ground staining steadily more crimson.

Kanna seemed shocked, the first expression that Kagome had seen on the girl. The mirror still stood in her hands, but cracked and useless. Kagura's fan lay in splinters on the ground, its owner's face stoic. Naraku stood, though he, too, was heaving.

He didn't attack, though. It was all rather useless anyways. "Give me the Tama, or I will take it myself."

Instinctively, Kagome held the Tama closer and clenched it tighter.

The Tama would grant a wish, she thought suddenly. I could wish that Naraku's dead. Or that my friends are alive. Or that we won this encounter with Naraku dead and no other casualties.

So, she grabbed the jewel so tightly that her knuckles turned white and her fingers became numb. She took a deep breath and said, "I wish that we had won—"

Naraku had caught on quickly, and ripped the jewel from her hands.

Her wish was not granted.

For a moment, he caressed the jewel and marveled at it under the pretty summer sun. Then, he smiled maliciously and his eyes glinted as he clenched it tightly in his hands to make his wish.

No, Kagome thought desperately. She had no idea what Naraku would wish for, but she knew that it would be nothing better than the worst. She would blast him, she thought, she still had her miko powers. Or she could simply tackle him, so long as she stopped him from making that wish.

While Kagome was still making up her mind, though, Naraku had already made his wish.

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Property - Chapter Fourteen

Sesshoumaru touched the swords at his hip. One was the Tenseiga, already familiar in shared grief and anger and pain. The other, the Tessaiga, was still a stranger and not even his own. His father had informed him that he should bring the sword to Inuyasha, who apparently resided at the Higurashi House. A spark flew between his finger tips and the sword, a show of rejection, and he was getting tired of being rejected. At least, he wouldn't have to handle the sword. Let his half-brother try to master it.

Behind him, Rin hummed a happy tune befitting the sunny skies as she walked besides Ah-un. She always seemed to be humming. Perhaps it stemmed from her lonely childhood.

Jaken was busy, leading the disgruntled Ah-un and verbally sparring the staff with two talking heads who were giving contradictory information about youkai in the area.

Suddenly, Sesshoumaru decided to stop. Ah-un stopped obediently. Rin stopped beside Ah-un. Only Jaken slashed air with his staff and tugged at Ah-un's reins. He tugged once too hard and was sent tumbling into Sesshoumaru's back.

"I'm sorry, Sesshoumaru-sama," Jaken apologized profusely. "I apologize. I'm so sorry. If there is anything I can do for Sesshoumaru-sama, anything at all—"

"It's Kouga," Sesshoumaru announced suddenly, cutting Jaken off.

"Kouga?" Jaken repeated in confusion.

"Ah!" Rin stopped humming long enough to exclaim. "The Wolf Prince."

Jaken glared at the human. "What do you—"

"Yes, the Wolf Prince," Sesshoumaru confirmed, leaving Jaken flabbergasted. Imagine, to be outsmarted by a human!

"What's he doing here?" Jaken demanded.

Rin turned to look between Jaken and Sesshoumaru. "Why shouldn't he be here?"

"Why? Why? You're asking me why?" Jaken shouted from his diminutive height, outraged. "Because—I'll have you know—because... well, the answer should be obvious. Because—"

"Enough, Jaken," Sesshoumaru ordered. "This is Kouga's territory. He has every right to be here. Especially if there are foreign youkai."

"Foreign youkai?" Jaken scanned their surroundings. "Where?"

"Silly Jaken," Rin chided and smacked him on the head. "We're the foreign youkai."

Jaken glared at Rin, but realized that she was right. "You're not a youkai."

Rin shrugged. "I smell like Sesshoumaru-sama."

"That's disgusting!" Jaken exclaimed. "You do not smell like Sesshoumaru-sama!"

"Look," Rin said in a much too happy voice and pointing straight ahead. "There's the youkai."

Jaken looked to where Rin had pointed. There was somebody there, certainly, but he stood on two legs and his hair was bundled into a ponytail. Surely, any youkai would have more... class than to wear those scraps of fur...?

"Wolf Prince," Sesshoumaru acknowledged formally.

"Taiyoukai heir," Kouga returned. "I was not expecting you."

"Of course not."

Quickly, Kouga added, "But you are, of course, welcomed to stay awhile."

Sesshoumaru nodded regally. Gesturing to the others, he introduced, "Jaken, my retainer. Rin. And Ah-un."

Kouga nodded to them in turn, even Ah-un. Then, he remarked, "I see that you never lack female human companionship."

Suddenly, Sesshoumaru's eyes flashed and his hand tightened on the sword at the insinuation. "Do not presume to know what I do with them."

"Of course not," Kouga agreed airily. "I'm quite sure that it is quite beyond my imagination, whatever you do with them."

Sesshoumaru growled and Kouga took a step back involuntarily. Still not wanting to lose face, Kouga said, "Well, you've given up your claim on Kagome."

Sesshoumaru straightened up at this comment. "What do you know of that?" he asked calmly.

Kouga shrugged. "She came by a couple months back. She and her friends helped heal some of our wolves. We chatted. She left. I plan to travel to the Higurashi House soon, see if her old man wants to help eliminate Naraku."

"Naraku?"

Kouga nodded, oblivious to Sesshoumaru's sudden alertness. "He goddamned attacked us. I'm not going to let that slide. I know you probably don't care about us, but Hiroshi's been asking for an alliance and I might as well take his offer. Their territory is next to ours. The daughter's a looker—and has power, too. You're not claiming her anymore."

"Don't," Sesshoumaru warned ominously.

"Don't what?"

Sesshoumaru thought about that. He had reacted instinctually and something had churned at the thought of Kagome marrying Kouga, being by his side, sleeping with him. The thought made Sesshoumaru want to tear something—or someone—up. Maybe, he thought, it was just that he didn't want Kagome to find happiness. At least not with the little wimpy Wolf Prince. "Don't marry her."

Kouga looked at Sesshoumaru strangely. "Why do you care? And why should I listen to you?"

Sesshoumaru thought about that. For all the power of the Western Lands, Kouga was still outside of his jurisdiction. After all, the wolf clan had been exiled when the Wolf Prince way back when had refused to send out his men to help Touga. "We'll help you eliminate Naraku."

"What?"

"You heard me the first time."

Kouga was startled. Then, he shook his head a little as if to clear it. "You don't have a say in who your daddy allies with."

"Sure, I do," Sesshoumaru answered lazily. Kouga was right, but since Naraku was the one who had almost killed both Izayoi and Touga so many years ago, Sesshoumaru had little doubt that his father would gladly kill the hanyou.

"What guarantee do I have?" Kouga asked.

"None," Sesshoumaru answered. "The question is if you also want to chance the possibility of my father’s wrath."

Kouga thought about it. It didn't take long. "Fine, but I can still have an alliance with Hiroshi."

"Of course," Sesshoumaru allowed magnanimously. "But not through marriage to his daughter."


Sesshoumaru, Rin, Jaken, and Ah-un were leaving the caves the next morning when they heard a distant voice shout, "Stop! Stop! Wait for me!"

They were startled into stopping and several seconds later, Kouga caught up with them. He had been running quickly and his sudden stop kicked up a cloud of dust, causing Rin, the only human, to start coughing.

"Oh, my lady," Kouga said, fully aware that Rin was under Sesshoumaru's protection and that if he upset her for some reason, it could lead to undesirable consequences. "I must apologize for kicking up dust."

Rin giggled at Kouga's address. It was a change from yesterday's coarse words. "It's okay," she managed between coughs. "But do try to not do that again."

"Of course," Kouga answered seriously.

Sesshoumaru threw an assessing look at them both. Satisfied that neither was going to attack the other, he started walking again. The rest of them followed.

After about ten minutes of silence, Kouga just about couldn't stand it anymore. He started sneaking glances at Rin. A glance at first. Then another. And another.

And finally, she noticed. "What?" she asked, a little defensively.

"Oh, well..." Kouga plunged ahead and asked, "What's your relationship with Sesshoumaru?"

"Oh." Rin answered, "He's like a brother. A little bit like a father. He's kind of protective about me."

"Oh." So, a totally platonic relationship, Kouga thought. What was with the Taiyoukai heir and leaving beautiful human women alone? So, Sesshoumaru had probably touched Kagome, and she had fairly reeked of the inuyoukai, but Kouga had never smelled sex between them, either.

Maybe the Taiyoukai heir only liked other men?

Kouga scrunched his nose up at that thought. He certainly wasn't interested in men and it was too disturbing to think of Sesshoumaru, well, hot and passionate with, well, Kouga. In fact, it was so disturbing that Kouga decided to banish that thought altogether.

"What's wrong?" Rin asked suddenly, breaking up Kouga's spiraling thought process.

"Oh, nothing."

Rin frowned a bit. "You were staring at Sesshoumaru-sama really strangely. I mean, I know his fairly good looking..."

"Yes," Kouga agreed automatically before frantically backtracking. "I mean, no. I don't notice things like that. I like women. Strictly females only kind of guy. That's me. I like their softness and their breasts and their rounded butt and—" He shut up quickly, realizing that he was only digging himself a deeper hole.

Thankfully, Rin only giggled. "Don't worry about Sesshoumaru-sama," she said. "You're pretty good looking, too."

"Really?" Kouga asked, then corrected himself, "I mean, I know that."

Rin only giggled again.

Kouga didn't know if he should be relieved or frustrated at her giggles.


It was with a touch of haste that Hiroshi Higurashi welcomed Sesshoumaru Taiyoukai to the Higurashi House.

"Is everything all right?" Hiroshi asked. Again. "Do feel free to ask the servants if anything is amiss."

Sesshoumaru nodded.

"We're very sorry about our daughter," Ayako, Kagome's mother, added. "We apologize for any discomfort she might have caused when you were in... your unfortunate circumstance."

Sesshoumaru nodded.

"But she did free you, right?" Hiroshi asked anxiously.

Again, Sesshoumaru nodded.

Hiroshi breathed a sigh of relief. "That's good. Our daughter, she can be a little air-headed sometimes but she really doesn't mean badly. But it would be just like her to forget to free you from the blood-bound."

No, Sesshoumaru thought, she certainly had not forgotten.

Hiroshi was still talking, "I had assumed that you are free since Touga Taiyoukai graciously let me return, but I am glad to hear it from your own lips."

Sesshoumaru nodded. It was beginning to feel like a reflex.

Suddenly, Hiroshi seemed to realize the awkwardness of the conversation and laughed self-consciously. "You must be glad to finally be free, huh?"

Mechanically, Sesshoumaru jerked his head once.

And he should be glad to be free. To not be bound to some human or be plagued by their emotions. But the absence of the bond had only made him feel as if he were missing something. And he should be glad to be rid of reminders of his "unfortunate circumstance," but for one last time, he wanted to see Kagome Higurashi.

Like his father said, he needed some kind of closure.

"I'd like to talk with your daughter," he requested.

"Well, you are not bound to her anymore, right?" Hiroshi asked. Anxiety had returned to his voice.

"No," Sesshoumaru answered. "But I'd still like to talk to her. Talk some things through. I'm sure you understand."

"Well..." Hiroshi hedged. He supposed that he should be glad that he didn't know where his daughter was. He doubted that the youkai had anything favorable to discuss with Kagome. On the other hand, he could not afford to upset Sesshoumaru... "Actually... I'm not quite sure where Kagome is."

Sesshoumaru narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean?"

"It's been upsetting for all of us," Hiroshi explained.

"What do you mean?" Sesshoumaru asked again, this time with each syllable carefully enunciated.

Hiroshi sighed. "I'm sure that you've heard the rumors... It's hard on all of us who believed in her. Tomorrow, or the day after, we're officially instating Souta as the heir."

No, Sesshoumaru wanted to say, I did not hear about the rumors. But he could not appear as anything less than in control. Especially since he thought that if he started saying everything he thought, he wouldn't stop until sunset... and maybe not even then. And he didn't want Hiroshi or Jaken to hear about those things. He wanted to rant at Kagome, the cause of it all.

Instead, he said, "What about Kagome?"

Hiroshi looked down at the table. "She will be dead to us."

Sesshoumaru fell silent at that. Disinheritance... a severe punishment for a shameful transgression. He wondered what Kagome had done since their parting, since he remembered the legal documents that Hiroshi had given Kagome to prepare her for being the head of the Higurashi House.

Maybe he wouldn't find the closure he needed.

After a while, he requested, "Can I walk around the gardens, then?"

Hiroshi gestured towards the doors. "Feel free."

Sesshoumaru nodded.


Ayako tugged on Hiroshi's sleeve when Sesshoumaru left and it was just the two of them. "Why were you being such a simpering idiot?"

"What else was I supposed to do?" Hiroshi turned and asked her.

She glared at him. "Something else. You acted like putty in his hands. You were practically asking him if you could rub his feet for him."

He covered his face with his hands and leaned heavily on the table. "What was I supposed to do? He was upset. Even you could see that."

"Oh, so you sell out our daughter? You know she would never have done those kinds of things."

"I know, I know," he said tiredly. "But what else was I supposed to do? I'm going to disinherit her because she couldn't keep herself chaste until her marriage. I'm going to have to make Souta the heir. Aya, do you know that Souta is only twelve years old? He's going to have to deal with the pressure of people's expectations. Good and bad. And they would wonder if he would turn out like his sister."

"But Kagome is still your daughter."

"I couldn't have done anything else." He pulled his hair back in a ragged motion and let out a long sigh. "I couldn't have done anything else," he repeated, though it seemed more for his own benefit than for Ayako's. "Do you know what will happen if Taiyoukai decides to attack us?"

Ayako's lips thinned. "We were prepared for it before."

Hiroshi shook his head. "Not anymore. Souta's not ready as the Higurashi heir. But even that's not such a big deal. It's what Kikyou told me."

"Kikyou?"

He nodded. "Naraku. He attacked us while I was gone."

Ayako's eyes narrowed. "She's making it up. Don't forget, I was here, too."

"I know. I considered that." Hiroshi shook his head and leaned back. "But Inuyasha confirmed her story. And according to Kikyou, she was looking for the Shikon no Tama, which he has been since hundreds of years ago."

"Just like any other youkai," Ayako interjected.

"And he mentioned Kikyou's resemblance to Izayoi."

Ayako's eyes widened. "No. Nobody knows that Izayoi was a Higurashi priestess."

"Of course not," Hiroshi soothed. "If they did, the Higurashi House would have long been destroyed by those who would have thought that humans sent Izayoi to weaken the Taiyoukai Lord. So, our ancestors kept the fact that she was a Higurashi priestess secret." He paused, then added significantly, "But Naraku knows."

"We can't fight the Taiyoukai Lord and Naraku at the same time. Even if Kouga does ally with us."

"That's what I was afraid of."


The bright sunlight woke Kagome up early in the morning. She had just gotten two loaves of fresh bread yesterday and they lay on the table. She had washed her clothes yesterday, too, and they were dry today. The gardeners had told her that it would soon turn into the shower half of the summer season and she needed not to worry anymore about the plants.

She should leave today.

Soon, her father would be announcing her disinheritance, and she was quite sure that she didn't want to be present for that. Even if she was prepared to reveal the fact that she had had an indiscretion, as her parents had put it, she thought that she would not enjoy people looking askance at her. She was not a masochist.

She wished she had the strength to leave.

But she realized now that a little part of her was still waiting for Sesshoumaru to come back. Maybe, her heart whispered, he loved her—or had loved her—despite the blood-bond. Maybe, it told her insidiously, some of his affection was—or had been—genuine. Maybe... maybe... maybe...

And Kagome answered back: maybe.

And if you leave, her heart whispered... If you leave, he can never find you again.

Maybe that was so. But maybe he would never look for her. Maybe he thought she was good riddance when the blood-bond had broken and he finally understood what kind of a burden she had been.

Maybe...

Today, she should leave.

She bundled up a change of clothing and some food in a large piece of cloth. She had even picked out a direction—south—and yet she couldn't seem to set one foot outside. The watering cans needed to be put away. Maybe she should stay to wash the sheets—the next inhabitant wouldn't want dirty sheets. The door needed to be locked, and she had no lock.

But somewhere in her mind, she knew that she was only fussing and finding excuses.

And she wished that she had the fortitude to leave.

She was determined.

There was no reason to remain as a burden to everyone around her.

And the world outside was vast. There were adventurers outside the life in the Higurashi House sheltered by the gardens and stone walls. And surely, surely, her mother was right. Surely, one day, Sesshoumaru would be a true love of the past, and she would find some human, a farmer maybe, or a physician, and they would have seven children and grow old together.

Maybe she could have more than one true love.

But she needed to leave. Today.

She stepped out of the hut and slung the pack on her back. She walked the familiar path down the garden. It would take her around the house and bring her to the south entrance.

She stopped suddenly when she saw a flash of familiar white hair—must be Inuyasha—but forced herself to turn sharply toward where she needed to go to leave the Higurashi House. She needed to leave today or she would never leave at all.

"Kagome," she heard a familiar voice call out. Sesshoumaru... and her heart seemed to trip before beating again. But it couldn't be. It must be a figure from her overwrought imagination.

And even if it was, she would have to leave.

She quickened her pace. She would need to leave before she saw him, because then she would not want to leave at all and the hard won strength would slip through her fingers.

And she did not want to see him looking at her with hate and disgust in his eyes. Or worse, with nothing in his eyes. She had seen him look at others with that blank, gold gaze, and she did not want it directed at her.

She wanted to remember how well he had treated her and comforted her. How he had taken the time to teach her and tease her.

And yet, he was suddenly in front of her, larger than a mere figure of imagination had any right to be. He was almost just as the last she had seen him, with armor and pelt. Two swords hung at his waist instead of one. His hair was still long and white, flowing freely with the summer zephyr. And his eyes still gold, with something she didn't understand in them. At least they were not blank.

"Sesshoumaru," she breathed.

"Kagome," he answered and turned so that his back faced her. "I want to know why."

That was not what she had expected him to say at all. "Why what?"

"Why you repudiated me."

"Because..." Kagome twisted the question in her head and tried to answer it. "Why not? Aren't you happier now?"

"That's not a reason."

"You've always wanted to be free."

Sesshoumaru turned suddenly, fastening his fascinating eyes on her. "I wanted to be free... from the enslaving blood-bond. But I never asked you to repudiate me. I protected you. I... might have even cared for you. I never wanted to be free from you."

"You..." Kagome saw her vision blur with tears. This was what she had dreamed of hearing. Only, Sesshoumaru didn't know. "That was all from the blood-bond."

This time, Sesshoumaru put his hands on Kagome's arms and shook her a little. Kagome thought she might have even protested but for the shock of feeling Sesshoumaru's touch again. She should have protested for being manhandled. But this was Sesshoumaru. And Sesshoumaru... well, he had a right to be angry. She heard him ask, "Is that what you think? That the blood-bond can force me to feel things? Kagome, a normal blood-bond like the one we had can only tell me of your emotions, and nothing more."

"But..." Kagome protested.

"If I don't protect you, it hurts me. But do you think I would have let a little pain stop me from doing what I wanted to do? Do you think me so weak?"

Kagome looked away. "You know I don't. But it must have been easier for you to help me get to the Western Lands."

Sesshoumaru looked down at Kagome.

Silly Kagome who had hurt him and tried to explain to him that it was for his own good. Stupid Kagome who thought he would accept such an excuse. It wasn't good for him, and he couldn’t imagine why she had thought so in the first place. So, really he ought to just tell her to go to hell—at least he was not actually hurting her in retaliation as he would have done if he had followed his first inclination after the repudiation—and walk away and live the long overdue life as the Taiyoukai heir leave all human filth behind.

Except... this line of thinking was also so typical of Kagome. His Kagome. Innocent and trusting, believing whichever fool had misled her in an effort to separate them. Still wanting the best for him, even at her own expense. And still thinking that she knew better than him. He had lived for over five hundred years. He had more life experience. Shouldn't he know the world better? And besides, he had been with many women. And it irked him that she thought he wouldn't know if he liked someone.

Frustrated, he bent down and kissed her, and yet all the frustration melted away once he tasted her lips. Gently, his lips touched hers and explored the texture. Softly, as he had wanted to ever since he found out that they had mated while he was in heat and he couldn't remember what had happened. Carefully, because he wanted her, and not just for now, but for a long time... he wasn't quite sure yet if he was ready for forever.

"Sesshoumaru," Kagome said as soon as she could, several dazed moments after he had broken the kiss. "You're just reacting... to the repudiation."

"No, I'm not," Sesshoumaru refted. He looked at the sky behind her, wondering if Kagome was still Kagome... and how to convince her that he was still Sesshoumaru. The one she had known. "I've... killed my owners before, and that hurts like repudiation. And I don't love them after their deaths."

"Oh." Kagome didn't know how to react.

He went on, "But you're different. I want to protect you, to make sure you're safe. I want to know if you're in danger. When you were attacked by Naraku, I made a vow that I would stop anybody else from hurting you. And I will."

Before Kagome could say anything, a strange feeling encompassed her. She looked at Sesshoumaru questioningly and he smiled a little smile. "Now, I'm blood-bound to you again."

"What?"

"I did it of my own free will this time, and you really shouldn't repudiate me again, because that really hurt."

"I don't know—"

"Sh," Sesshoumaru soothed as he held Kagome tight against his chest. He let her confusion and anxiety and uncertainty fill the emptiness in him that had been waiting for her. But more, he felt her bewildered happiness and it danced through his own heart.

Hesitantly, Kagome put her arms around Sesshoumaru's waist. She could feel him solidly under her arms, not fading like a mirage as she had feared. She could hear his heart beating.

After a few silent moments, Kagome admitted, "I missed you."

Sesshoumaru thought that it had taken a lot for her to admit that, but he was not sorry that she did. He stood there and enjoyed the feel of her warmth against him. But he could feel Kagome's growing anxiety and before Kagome could pull out of his arms, he thought he should say something. What came out was, "I missed you, too."

It was true.

Read More...

Saturday, May 26, 2007

Harry Potter and the Prince of Nightmares

Chapter Ten – Dreaming Truths and True Dreams

Voldemort slammed his fist down on the arm of his throne in a rare show of temper. His eyes blazed red in his dark throne room and the stone walls echoed his sibilant voice ominously. "How dare you tell me that they have refused my alliance?"

Typhulus found himself trembling as he bowed in front of Voldemort. "They have not refused your generosity, My Lord," Typhulus tried appeasing his Dark Lord's anger. "They have merely refused to see the inevitability of it."

The Dark Lord stood up from where he was seated. His steps clicked loudly against stone floor. Typhulus could vaguely see the Dark Lord's black robe swirling in the dim interior of the room.

Finally, the Dark Lord stopped. "They want Harry Potter dead before they will join an alliance with me?" the Dark Lord asked rhetorically. "Then they will get a dead Harry Potter. It's not as if I hadn't planned on killing him anyways. I just wanted to attain the secret of immortality before the little project."

"My-My Lord," Typhulus stuttered, not sure of how to tell his Dark Lord that killing Harry Potter was not the best idea to encourage the vengeful Nightmares to cooperate with the Dark Lord. "Even the Nightmares do not have the secret to immortality. They die when their chosen mate dies."

"Just because you don't have the answer doesn't mean the rest of them don't," the Dark Lord hissed. "Besides, we'll have to overcome this little problem anyways, since I don't plan on dying. It is rather troublesome that four of my seven horcruxes have already been destroyed, though."




Harry found himself wandering through the empty hallways of Hogwarts as he dreamed. He knew he was dreaming, because not a single candle was lit and yet Harry knew exactly where he was: He was on his way to Draco's room.

As loud as his footsteps were, Harry thought that he really ought to have woken up. And even though he tried to wake up, he found himself walking closer and closer to Draco's room.

It was going to be another one of those dreams, Harry could tell.

Soon enough, Harry was in front of the door to Draco's room.

In these dreams, he somehow bypassed the Slytherin common room. If it would only be so easy in real life. Then, Harry would have no problem confronting Draco about these dreams in the first place. As it was, Harry hesitated between facing a legion of unfriendly Slytherins and being caught out after curfew.

There was never a word spoken between Harry and Draco. The door simply opened. Harry went in, as he always did. Draco was sitting on his bed, waiting.

If Harry was honest with himself, he would admit that he actually could enjoy these dreams, where there was no tomorrow, no yesterday. There were no enemies, no enmity. Where there were only Draco and Harry and there was Harry and Draco. With an understanding so complete between them that no words were ever spoken.

However, they were only dreams. Besides, Harry was sure that Draco was sending them to Harry, and Harry thought he would enjoy these dreams if they were private.

Besides, Harry found that sleeping with somebody in his dreams, while pleasant, quite exhausting. In this way, Harry had had little sleep in the past week and found himself nodding off in classes other than History of Magic. When he wasn't staring at Malfoy, that was.

So, Harry thought desperately of a way to, if not wake up, at least change the direction of the dream. Hurry it up a little. Make it end quicker. Or at least not so exhausting.

In his dream, Harry sat down next to Draco, and Draco draped himself on Harry's back. Draco's pale blond hair tickled Harry's neck a little and Draco's hands rubbed soothing patterns down Harry's back, under his shirt.

There were kisses in Harry's dreams. Draco planted butterfly kisses all the way down Harry's neck, and Draco's soft tongue traced the faint teeth marks on Harry's shoulder, leaving it a little chilled as Draco moved down Harry's back.

With a sigh, Harry leaned back, and both of them collapsed on Draco's soft bed, no doubt custom ordered from some exclusive furniture maker.

The silk sheets rustled softly as Draco turned both of them over, so that Harry lay on his stomach, with Draco's comforting weight on top of him. Somehow, the candles in Draco's room had gone out and their clothes had disappeared so Harry could feel Draco's warmth in sharp contrast with the cool night air in the Slytherin dungeons.

It was a dream, after all, and inexplicable things happened in dreams all the time.

Which reminded Harry quite jarringly that he was in a dream, which he shouldn't be dreaming, for various reasons, the most practical of which was he needed true rest.

But as experience had taught Harry, he couldn't wake himself up from his dreams.

Although, Harry thought desperately as he tried not to be pulled under the soothing patterns Draco was drawing on his chest, the delicate fingers skimming carefully over bare skin, touching but not quite touching spots Harry had never known were so sensitive...

Maybe an interruption would help. Some sort of interruption.

Like a third wheel to cool the scene.

Which reminded Harry abruptly that somebody had said something about a third person.

Lavender.

She had offered to be there if Harry ever needed a third person. This would be the perfect time, even if Harry was just thinking it his dream.

Harry tried to picture Lavender.

She was tall and thin, with straight brown hair—this week—and really long eyelashes—longer than even Draco's. Harry pictured her with red lipstick, a bit of blush, and a touch of eyeliner, since Harry had never seen her without any of those three. A Hogwarts school robe completed the picture.

A sudden weight fell onto the bed.

Harry looked over, and to his immense shock and relief, he saw Lavender there, just as he had pictured her. She smiled brilliantly at Harry, her white teeth shining unnaturally in the dark room.

Harry smiled back hesitantly.

Apparently, Draco—the Draco in the dream—noticed that Lavender was there, too. Suddenly, both Harry and Draco were fully dressed. Harry still lay on the bed, but Draco stood stiffly beside the bed.

When Harry looked over at Draco, he found cold silver eyes piercing through him. Then, Draco gave Lavender an even more glacial look, if it was possible.

Then, all went black as Harry fell into a dreamless sleep.




"What did you do with Lavender?" Hermione demanded at breakfast.

"What?" Harry asked, confused. For the first time in a long while, Harry felt actually refreshed in the morning. In fact, he couldn't remember any dreams from last night, nightmares or otherwise. "I didn't do anything with Lavender."

"Well," Hermione said doubtfully. "Don't look now, but she's got to have at least a pound of makeup on her—I'm not exaggerating—and she's been sneaking looks at you all breakfast."

Ron turned from his breakfast to join in the conversation. "So?" He asked, after turning around and looking at Lavender. "Lavender's always looking at Harry anyways. And I think you should worry more about a filthy Slytherin looking at you."

Automatically, Hermione looked across the table, and found Blaise's blue eyes on her. Seeing that he had her attention, Blaise blew her a flying kiss, making Hermione blush furiously. She looked away quickly. "I have no idea what Blaise thinks he's doing."

Ron looked between Hermione and Blaise suspiciously. "Are you sure you didn't do anything with him?"

"Nothing that would elicit this kind of reaction." Hermione paused. "We just had a walk on Saturday."

Ron's brown eyes widened. "You had a walk with him? You took your time away from studying and walked with him?"

Hermione shrugged, trying to be nonchalant. "I had most of my homework done already."

"You took time away from studying to go on a date with Blaise Zabini!" Ron exclaimed, throwing his hands up into the air before collapsing onto the table. He muttered, "What is this world coming to?"

"It was not a date," Hermione refuted. "It was a spur of the moment walk to the lake and back."

"You went to the lake?" Harry asked. Even Harry knew that a walk around the lake was the standard date on Hogwarts campus.

"What do you mean spur of the moment?" Ron questioned. "For you, maybe, but he probably planned it all along. Probably's been planning it for months, the sly, sneaking Slytherin."

Hermione rolled her eyes in exasperation. "You are just being paranoid. Besides, if I wanted to date somebody, I can. It's not like I'm seeing anybody."

"B-b-but..." Ron trailed off, not quite sure of what to say to that. There was just something not quite right about Hermione dating somebody. To Ron, there was Harry, the hero, and there were Hermione and Ron, Harry's friends. He had never even thought about Hermione dating somebody—Victor had just been a one-time thing—and it sat uncomfortably in his chest.

"What is important, though," Hermione continued. "Is why Lavender is still looking at you like that."

This time, Harry couldn't resist looking over at where Lavender sat. She was whispering something with Parvati, as usual. Girl stuff, they had said once when Harry had asked in second year. He hadn't bothered asking again.

When Lavender caught Harry looking at her, she flashed a brilliant smile at him.

"I told you I dreamed true," Harry heard Lavender say.

"Ooh," Parvati cooed, and then lowered her voice so that whatever she said next was unintelligible to Harry.

"Ugh," Hermione intoned in disgust. "Not some stupid divination thing again."

Unfortunately for Hermione, Hermione, Ron and Harry all caught Professor Trelawney's name distinctively in Lavender and Parvati's conversation.

Harry continued eating his breakfast. "I really didn't do anything with Lavender, see?"

Hermione looked at Harry suspiciously before finally nodding. "I suppose it's not really your fault if she dreamed some random girlish dream."

"But you did do something with Zabini," Ron said in an accusative tone. He wasn't going to drop it.

"Yeah, well?" Hermione asked. "Ron, you're one of my best friends, but you are not my boyfriend. Therefore, while I am glad you care about whom I decide to date, you have no authority to tell me whom to date. Or not date. Blaise happens to be a very nice person and a perfect gentleman."

Harry heard Ron mutter something under his breath. Something about money and position and purebloods.

"I didn't hear that," Hermione said loudly. "And I'm not sure I want to. At least Blaise can speak clearly and articulately to express himself."

Hermione decided to eat her breakfast stoically.

Ron sighed.

Harry asked half-heartedly, "Who wants to tryout for Quidditch team?"




It seemed as if the entire Gryffindor house showed up for Quidditch tryouts, even the first-years who obviously would not qualify and the girls who had never shown any interest in the sport before. Harry thought that there might even be a Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw in the mix.

The Boy-Who-Lived himself was the captain, after all.

Harry sighed as he eyed a couple of first year boys dubiously. He could hear them talking about being seekers, a position that Harry himself occupied and did not plan on giving up. At least he could tell them that.

For the Keeper and Beaters Harry needed, though, he would have to give everybody a fair tryout, even if Harry already knew that they were not qualified.

"Alright," Harry said through the cacophony, but nobody seemed to have heard. He took a deep breath. "Alright!" He shouted.

Instantly, the crowd quieted, as if waiting a show to begin. Harry looked over the crowd hesitantly before announcing, "The try outs for Beaters are first. If you want to try out to be a Beater, please line up here."

A minute passed as people shuffled around.

When there was finally a semblance of a queue in front of Harry, he decided he might as well go ahead. "I'm going to let out the bludgers," Harry explained as he gestured to the field. "And four of you will hit it at each other. I will decide who's best."

Harry looked back to see if people understood, only to see Lavender at the head of the line. "Lavender," he said. "I didn't know you're interested in Quidditch."

"Oh, of course," Lavender replied, surprising Harry. "I'd do anything to protect you, including keeping those evil, nasty bludgers away from you."

"Um... okay." Harry was at a lost as to how to respond.

It turned out, though, that just as Harry had assumed, Lavender was completely unqualified to as a Beater. Normally, high heels wouldn't matter on brooms, but one of Lavender's flamboyant red high-heels fell off during the try out, causing her to panic.

"Oh, the heel is going to break!" Lavender shrieked desperately as she watched her shoe fall, while the other three Gryffindors were still trying to heat the bludgers. Unfortunately, one of them hit Lavender straight in the face. Harry thought that Lavender probably broke her nose.

The next thing Harry knew, Lavender was sprawled rather awkwardly on the ground with her broom several feet away from her and the other three Gryffindors were descending too. Harry approached Lavender carefully. She lay unmoving, and didn't make any noise except a very faint groan.

"Um, Lavender?" Harry said. "I think you'd better go see Madame Pomfrey."

Lavender said something, but the lawn muffled it so that Harry couldn't understand it.

"I'll bring you to the infirmary, okay?" Harry offered. He actually felt rather guilty for not stopping Lavender earlier. Bludgers were rather nasty, and he had known that Lavender would not make the team. He really should have just told her so.

Looking around, Harry saw that everybody had formed a ring around Lavender. He told them, "We'll do tryouts another time."

Harry slung one of Lavender's arms awkwardly around his shoulder and together, they half hopped, half limped to the infirmary.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked.

Lavender seemed almost delirious, though. "Okay, okay," she muttered. "I'd do anything to keep you safe, Harry."

"Um, I'm actually quite safe at Hogwarts."

"Did you know Parvati and Padma are seers?" Lavender asked incongruously. Without waiting for Harry's answer, she continued, "Well, I'm a seer, too, because last night, I saw myself with you and Draco."

"Uh..." What did Lavender expect Harry to say? "I think it might've just been a dream."

"No, no," Lavender waved Harry's theory away. Or she would've, but her hand only moved minimally. "I felt it, that it was real. Besides, I didn't know that Draco had his own room—but I dreamed it. I asked around today, and it was true."

"Okay," Harry accepted, even though he still wasn't very convinced. He thought everybody knew that Draco had his own room. At least, all the Slytherins knew. But then, Slytherins were very good at keeping secrets.

"You know, Draco was looking very sexy on top of you when I dropped onto the bed," Lavender continued and tripped a little so that Harry staggered under her weight.

Harry thought the bludger must have hit Lavender pretty hard, or she wouldn't be saying things like this. Fortunately, they were almost at the infirmary. When Lavender healed, Harry could pretend that this conversation hadn't happened.

Still, the last part of what Lavender said triggered something in Harry's memory. Sure, Harry had dreams with Draco on top of him, but the part about somebody dropping onto the bed.

"Oh, bloody hell," Harry cursed aloud as they arrived at the infirmary. Lavender had dreamed true, even if it wasn't about the future. Harry only just remembered his dream.

Madame Pomfrey was nowhere in sight. So, Harry took it upon himself to lay Lavender down so she could at least get some rest. And he could get some rest, too. As he put her down, though, somehow she didn't let go of him and they both tripped onto the bed, so that Harry found himself on top of Lavender.

"Um, Lavender?" Harry said as he tried to untangle himself unsuccessfully. Lavender seemed determined to hold onto the corner of Harry's collar. "Can you let go?"

There was no response from Lavender.

Suddenly, a cold voice said behind Harry, "Don't worry, Potter, it's all the same if I amputate her arm."




Draco could feel the cold anger that had been swirling just beneath his consciousness finally coming to a head.

No matter what had happened before, Potter had always been at the center of it. In first year, Draco had taken Longbottom's Rememberall, and Potter had chased him. Through the subsequent years, they sneered at each other, hurled insults at each other, and dueled with each other. But every time Draco had done something, Harry had responded.

Except for now.

Because of the bond, Draco had been plagued with dreams, hot, heavy, lusty dreams. Not only did Draco never dream before—Nightmares had no souls, little subconscious, and generally gathered dreams more than made them—these dreams always ended with an unsatisfied and rather frustrated Draco.

And while it was true that these dreams featured Harry Potter, the dark-haired, green-eyed hero of the wizarding world, Draco found it strangely disturbing that the real Harry Potter had no visible reaction to these nightly apparitions that plagued Draco.

Last night, though, a very strange occurrence took place in Draco's dream: Brown had appeared.

Throughout the day, today, Draco had pondered over the meaning of the girl who had designs on Draco's mate and could possibly—very unlikely, but still possibly—severe the bond that was forming between him and Potter.

Draco had decided to restrain himself from any action against the Gryffindor girl only because he had thought that even a Gryffindor shouldn't be blamed for something that had happened merely in a dream.

However, when Draco saw Harry walking with Brown down the hall, he had found himself in a rare state of shock. Still being understanding, though, Draco had waited, rather unnecessarily. In fact, he had almost decided to leave once he saw the pair of Gryffindors arrive at the infirmary.

Staying true to Slytherin values, though, Draco had decided to stay just in case something did not go as it should. Something didn't.

Draco found his mate and a girl engaging in foolish flirting—and perhaps beyond flirting—on a bed.

Harry was Draco's, Draco vowed. All of Harry.

If Harry was angry, he took it out on Draco. If Harry was upset, Draco would notice. If Harry laughed, it would be with Draco by his side. And if Harry decided he needed a little lusty entertainment, he should certainly go to Draco.

That Harry had decided to go to Brown...

It made something ugly in Draco raise its head.

"Actually, if it's all the same to you, I'd rather you don't," Harry said carefully, as if sensing that Draco felt more than usually antagonistic.

"It's not the same to me," Draco replied evenly. "I think I'd feel much better if I cut of her arm."

Harry had managed to unwind Lavender's arm from around his neck. He looked around, but Madame Pomfrey remained conspicuously absent. "Why don't we talk about this outside?" Harry asked.

"I think the conversation is just as well in here," Draco said. "Give me one reason why I shouldn't cut off her arm."

"Um..." Harry was at a loss as how to reply. All the obvious reasons—compassion, empathy, simple self-preservation from the wrath of Headmaster Dumbledore as well as Harry Potter—seemed not to apply for the Nightmare in front of him. Finally, Harry said, "You're supposed to be my ally, remember?"

At this, Draco snorted, and then laughed a strange, dry laugh. "Your ally, Potter, not your slave, and only for the war. Lavender contributes less than nothing to the war. Besides, even that is only after you have accepted the bond." Draco took a menacing step toward Harry. "Why haven't you accepted the bond yet?"

The bed was just behind Harry, but Harry told himself that he wouldn't have backed up anyways. He was a Gryffindor, and he wouldn't bow to Slytherin filth. Even if the Slytherin filth looked rather attractive and was rather powerful.

"I have accepted the bond," Harry replied evenly. "We have a bond. I can't break it. I accept it. What more do you want me to say?"

"It's not about saying anything." Draco shook his head slowly, so that his pale hair fluttered in front of his face. "It's about believing. What do you think magic is about, Harry? It's about believing." Draco paused to look at Harry and to make sure that Harry was still listening. "We killed God because we made sure nobody believed in him anymore."

Harry found himself fascinated by Draco. There was a certain... charisma that Harry had never before encountered in anyone else. It was if time slowed down for Draco. Harry could only point out, "But you believe in God."

"Ah." Draco smiled self-depreciatingly at this. "But we don't have souls, and so we don't have magic. Or rather, Lucifer already has all of our souls so it doesn't matter if we believe in God or not."

Harry had no reply to this. While Uncle Vernon and Aunt Veronica claimed to be Christians, Harry had never even seen a Bible in their house, even after all the cleaning he did. He knew little more than what Seamus had told him, which was very little.

"So God is the Christian God, then?" Harry asked.

Draco eyed Lavender suddenly, but decided that she could wait. "Of course there's a Christian God," Draco replied. "I imagine there's a god for every one that somebody believes in. God didn't make people; People made God."

"But you said something about Lucifer..."

"Yes, well, some people made God. Then, they gave him a son. They also made angels, and one of them was Lucifer and some of them were Nightmares. Things you make up in your mind can get out of control. So it is with things many different people make up." Draco paused before continuing. "Of course, if you don't believe in God, there is no God for you. But it's not about saying. It's about believing."

Harry found himself having a little trouble with this. God was God—Harry wasn't sure which God. People could choose to believe in him or people could choose not to, but shouldn't the god remain the same god?

Harry's relief at having distracted Draco was short-lived, though, when Draco said, "Magic is about believing. For example, if I believe I can cut off her arm, I can."

Harry looked behind him apprehensively, and Lavender had only one arm. Harry wasn't sure if it was a good sign that there was no blood. Harry could see the white bone and red fleshy stuff where Lavender's arm was truncated, making it somehow surreal.

He turned back to Draco, and was just about to somehow make Draco undo the amputation, when Draco waved his hand negligently in the air. "Or I could choose to make you believe that I have cut off her arm. Of course, if you believed it hard enough, you would've been the one to relieve her of her arm, not me."

Harry found Draco's smile rather unsettling and he thought he certainly wasn't in the mood to appreciate Draco's humor.

"Well, maybe not," Draco corrected himself. "It's difficult for you wizards and witches to do wandless magic, simply because your spirits are not as good at focusing. Still, if you believed hard enough..."

Draco sighed as if in regret. "Well, you didn't. And I hadn't made it real because I decided it wasn't worth the effort. You would just ask me to grow it back anyways."




Hermione turned to Ron impatiently. "Tell me what we are doing again."

"Shh..." Ron admonished. "We are spying on the Slytherins to see what evil designs they have."

"No, we're not," Hermione said, gesturing impatiently. "We are staring stupidly at an empty gray wall that leads to the Slytherin common room and we don't even have an invisible cloak to hide underneath."

"Well..." Hermione's logic was mostly infallible, Ron had learned from the past five and some years. "We can always claim that we want to speak to Malfoy or something."

"Right," Hermione answered sarcastically. "Because you are always willing to speak with Malfoy without violence involved. I think we're better off telling them we're seeing Blaise or something."

"That's a brilliant idea!" Ron surprised Hermione by saying. "That's exactly it. We're here to tell Blaise that he has to stay far, far away from you and that if he touches even a single hair on you, Harry and I will send him to the darkest pit in Hell where he won't ever see the sun ever again."

"Besides the various obvious illogical and redundant references in your sentence, can I say, 'not this again'?" Hermione rolled her eyes. "You really have no jurisdiction over this part of my life, and besides, you don't honestly expect me to be a spinster, do you? Even Harry has a mate."

Ron was saved from having to answer when Nott burst out from the Slytherin house.

Fortunately for the two Gryffindors, Nott didn't seem to notice them at all. Instead, he was muttering to himself as he stared angrily at the floor. "I can't believe Malfoy," they heard him mutter vaguely. "I'll show him. I'll show them all with my Lord. I'll show them when the dementors come flying, because of me. Then, I'll see what they have to say."

When Nott disappeared around the corner, Ron and Hermione left the Slytherin entrance by tacit consent.

Once they were back in the Gryffindor common room, Hermione burst out, "Nott is planning something."

"Of course," Ron answered. "He's a Slytherin. Being a Slytherin is synonymous with 'planning something.'"

"No, I mean, Nott is planning something on a grand scale. Voldemort is involved. So, apparently, is Malfoy."

"What?" Ron asked, alarmed. "You mean Nott is planning something with Malfoy for Voldemort?"

Hermione pursed her lips in thought. "I don't think so. I don't think that Malfoy can betray his mate like that. But Nott definitely mentioned Malfoy's name."

"Wait, wait, wait." Ron waved his hands frantically. "Who gave you the only book on Nightmares?"

"Blaise," Hermione answered slowly, not seeing Ron's point.

"Exactly." Ron continued triumphantly, "And Draco Malfoy is known to hang out with who the most?"

"Blaise..."

"So, if Draco wanted to plot something," Ron concluded. "And he wanted to throw you off track, he would give you a book with wrong information. Since it'd be suspicious if he handed it to you himself, he would have somebody else do the dirty work."

Hermione frowned thoughtfully, and finally shook his head. "I don't know. I can't see Blaise doing it. Besides, wouldn't Dumbledore have known if Malfoy wasn't telling the truth?"

"I always knew that Blaise was planning something," Ron said, more to himself than to Hermione. "And, well, Dumbledore... he hasn't been here much for the past three weeks. How would he know what Draco has planned? Draco could very well be a Nightmare, but we still don't really know what they are."

"But Nightmares and Nightmares is a famous book," Hermione protested. "I've read about it in several different other books."

"I'm not saying that it's not, but how do you know that the version you have is the actual book. It's not that difficult to make a book with false information and a false title."

"Fine, I suppose it's possible," Hermione relented reluctantly. "So, what do you think we should do?"

Ron answered without pausing, “What we've always done, of course. Watch over Harry."

Hermione added, "We should tell him."

"He might not believe us."

"But we should tell him anyways."

Read More...

Harry Potter and the Prince of Nightmares

Chapter Nine – Dance

Theodore found himself in Professor Snape's office Friday before lunch. He shifted and looked around the room, not quite sure what he was waiting for. All Professor Snape had said was to come to this office. Honestly, Theodore couldn't remember doing anything incorrectly, and certainly, Professor Snape had never favored him the way Malfoy was favored.

At the thought of Malfoy, Theodore's lips curled. The younger Malfoy had been the golden boy—of the Slytherins, that was—since the first day of school. While Malfoy certainly came from an ancient bloodline, the Nott line was not incomparable. Malfoy was a prat besides, even if Theodore hated to agree with Gryffindors.

The senior Malfoy was worse. Theodore always saw him strutting around as if he owned the world, which he did, in a sense, but only because the Dark Lord gave it to the senior Malfoy. Now that Malfoy had it, he decided to leave the Dark Lord.

It wasn't senior Malfoy's disloyalty that Theodore held in contempt. Loyalty was a rather stupid concept. Rather, it was Malfoy's stupidity. After all, didn't Malfoy think that the Dark Lord could take back what he had given? Well, it was all the same to Theodore.

Actually, it was better. Because before Malfoy's rise, Theodore's father had been on the rise as the Dark Lord's second. Of course, that was impossible now because he father got himself rather unfortunately imprisoned in Azkaban. Still, Theodore was a Nott, and he knew enough to be able to gain the Dark Lord's favor, if not eventually become the Dark Lord's second.

He did, after all, have the special trinket he was waiting for an opportunity to present. As soon as he fixed it...

The door to the office opened. Thirty-seven seconds late, Theodore noticed. These teachers thought they could do anything they wanted.

As Theodore looked up, though, it wasn't to see the greasy black-haired professor. Instead, Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy, stood just inside the room, closing the door to the office deliberately. On Malfoy's face loomed a smile that Theodore didn't quite trust.

"Nott," Malfoy acknowledged. "Just the person I wanted to see."

Theodore held back a glare. Malfoy was stronger than Theodore, and Theodore wasn't a Gryffindor. One day, though, Theodore promised himself that he would show Malfoy who was the bigger man. Even if his wife had already agreed that Theodore was better.

"Malfoy," Theodore greeted in kind, treating Malfoy as an equal. "What a surprise. I was actually expecting Professor Snape."

"Oh, Severus." Malfoy took arranged himself comfortably on a seat. "He was kind to do me a favor and arrange this little meeting between us."

Dammit! Theodore thought, you'd think that Headmaster Dumbledore would be powerful enough to know who should be good enough to be a professor. Of course, Headmaster Dumbledore had never quite championed for the Slytherins the way he did for the Gryffindors.

"What do you want?" Theodore spat, and then realized his mistake.

Malfoy only chuckled. "Shouldn't the question be what do you want?"

Theodore felt cold sweat seeping down his back. Malfoy hadn't managed to take over his father's position for nothing. "I know what I want," Theodore finally answered.

"Okay," Malfoy accepted easily. Too easily. "Well, then, I'm here to teach you that you can't always have what you want. Or who you want."

There was a strange glint in Malfoy's silver eyes—a trace of madness—as he waved his hand airily.

Theodore heard a crack and felt something hit his chest. Looking down, he saw that his robe had ripped and there was blood seeping through. He looked up at Malfoy with undisguised surprise. But that strange smile was still on Malfoy's face.

Unconsciously, Theodore took a step back. He glanced at the door, but it looked closed, and he doubted he had enough time to get out before Malfoy put a restraining spell on him.

There was another crack and Theodore winced as pain hit him again. This time, though, Theodore had anticipated the pain and it wasn't as bad. In fact, it was almost pleasant in its familiarity, the way father had always disciplined him.

"Normally," Theodore heard Malfoy say. "I find physical pain very crude. In this case, however, I have a limited amount of time and I did promise Snape to return you to him the way I found you."

Theodore wasn't sure how, but Malfoy seemed to be wielding an invisible whip. After several more slashes, Theodore barely felt them anymore, just a little ripple of tingling as the whip fell.

Theodore snorted contemptuously. "Even you can't heal me that fast."

A signature Malfoy smirk appeared on Malfoy's pale face. "But I can."




Apparently, Harry found out, Nightmares could plant dreams other than nightmares, and while he was grateful that Draco kept his promise—Harry hadn't even had any Voldemort-induced nightmares—he wasn't quite sure what to make of his new dreams.

During the past week, Harry had found himself more often than not falling asleep just to dream of pale flesh, flushed with excitement, silver eyes molten in passion, and light, golden hair, as soft as air.

There were sheets in Harry's new dreams, twisted and drenched in sweat. There were candles sometimes, flickering somewhere far away. Or there were the faint twinkles of stars. And sometimes, Harry found himself doing some things with Draco that Harry was sure couldn't be right, but he found himself enjoying it nonetheless.

Surely, Harry thought, Draco must have something to do with his new dreams—they weren't quite fearful enough to be nightmares—because Harry was sure that he could never even come up with these things by himself.

Not only did the dreams take over most of Harry's time asleep, Harry found that he couldn't concentrate during the day either.

Take now, for example. It was DADA class on Friday, the last class before the weekend began. Harry really ought to be concentrating on Professor Snape, since the Professor was bound to assign some nasty essay for the weekend.

Or at least, if Harry's mind decided to take a trip to another place, he should be thinking about the Hogsmeade trip next weekend. Or Quidditch tryouts he really needed to get started. Or the Halloween ball that was coming up.

Instead, all Harry found himself doing was staring at Draco's back, wondering if Draco's flaxen hair really felt as soft as it had in the dreams. It certainly looked just as pretty, like pixie dust sprinkled on golden silk.

Harry found himself admiring Draco's neck, too—where Draco's hair fell just past his ears, a pale, ivory column that stood just so. Unlike most sixteen year olds, Draco had no acne or spots and his neck was no exception. Just staring at Draco's neck from behind, Harry thought that Draco looked rather protect-able.

For the most part during the lesson, Draco stared idly ahead, at where Nott sat just in a row in front. From time to time, though, Draco turned his head to where Professor Snape was, and Harry could just make out the muscles and veins moving in Draco's neck. Then, Harry would remember all the wonderful things he did to Draco in the dreams... and all the wondering things Draco did to him in the dreams...

Surely, all teen-aged boys had dreams like this. Harry thought that this must be what Seamus was talking about two years ago. And what keeps a constant stream of muffling spells in the boys' dorm. Surely, even Draco couldn't make dreams out of nothing.

Still, Harry did not appreciate Draco making Harry's hormones manifest in these particular dreams.

Harry decided that he would have to talk with Draco. Lines would have to be drawn.

As soon as Harry figured out how to broach the subject.


Draco had thought he would enjoy Harry staring at him, after all those dreams he'd been plagued with, thanks to his Nightmare instincts.

Honestly, before mating with Harry, Draco had never thought about the Boy-Who-Lived in that way. Potter was a hero. Potter was a Gryffindor. Everybody loved Potter, and treated him like the celebrity he was.

Of course, Draco had had liaisons, mostly discreet, short term ones. A teen-aged boy had to enjoy himself somehow. Draco was just lucky that he was as good looking—and as well connected—as he was that he didn't have to depend on magazines.

Ever since he had placed the mating mark on Harry, though, Draco had found that there was something... different about Harry.

It wasn't just his black hair and pale skin; Blaise had that, too, although not quite the same messy bedroom looking black hair. It wasn't the brilliant green eyes, either, with the clearest expressions that Draco had ever seen. Although, Draco thought, any other pair of eyes compared to Harry's would not be green. And Draco had certainly seen—and felt—more comfortable bodies than Harry's rather bony one.

There was just something...

Draco decided that that something was definitely his Nightmare instincts. There was no other explanation.

However, his father didn't seem unreasonably attracted to his mother. And his mother was quite attractive. Draco decided to shove that discontinuous thought from his mind.

Speaking of his father... Draco looked ahead, to the back of Theodore Nott's sandy colored head. The Notts were an old line, and Nott, Senior was a prominent Death-Eater. Theodore himself was in Draco's year and as a weedy-looking boy, had no exceptional traits that Draco knew of.

So, the question would be: Why would Draco's father be interested in Nott at all?

When Draco had first walked into the room, he had been shocked to find the signature of his father's magic permeating the room. Identifying certain familiar strands of magic was an ability unique to Nightmares, since they pulled on each other's magic regularly.

Not finding his father in the classroom, Draco had tried to find the focus of the magic elsewhere. Draco had found Nott.

Draco wondered what father had done with Nott, and hoped that it didn't jeopardize the bond between Draco's parents. There were some things Draco didn't understand about being a Nightmare—he wasn't a bookworm and had yet to finish the second chapter of Nightmares and Nightmares, which he started about three years ago. But it seemed to Draco as if it would be a bad idea for Nightmare to have an affair, if Draco's own instincts rang true.

Of course, his parents could just be interested in spicing things up a little.


"Thank you for taking time away from the DADA essay to walk with me," Blaise said as he walked with Hermione.

It was Saturday. The sun was shining. The birds were chirping. And there was nary a cloud in sight. Blaise rather thought that if Hermione didn't enjoy the weather now, she'd have to wait until April, and that was a long ways away.

"That's no problem," Hermione replied. "I've already finished it."

Blaise stopped walking, and Hermione stopped beside him. He looked at Hermione carefully. "But Professor Snape only assigned it yesterday."

"Well, I like getting work done early." Hermione shrugged a little self-consciously. "It's not like I finished all my homework on Friday."

"Oh, pray tell." Blaise grinned wickedly. "What homework haven't you finished?"

"Umm..." Hermione paused to think as they sat down on the grass next to the lake. "Well, I still have two pages of Differences Between Wild Herbs and Weeds that I haven't finished reading yet."

"And?" Blaise prompted.

"Nothing. That's it."

Blaise mock groaned into his hands. "First of all, it's only two pages. Secondly, that's not due until next week."

Hermione shrugged a little.

"Wait, wait," Blaise said. "Don't tell me you finished evil Professor Vector's homework already."

"Okay," Hermione agreed. "I won't tell you that I already finished it."

"So, did you?"

Hermione looked at Blaise for a moment. "I'm not telling you."

"But don't you think she's evil?" Blaise asked. "She assigned three charts for five days."

"Seven days," Hermione corrected.

Blaise looked at Hermione balefully. "Weekends do not count toward days to do homework."

"I don't see why not." After a pause, Hermione added, "Besides, Professor Vector isn't evil. The only evil professor I know of is Professor Snape."

"Nah," Blaise disagreed. "Professor Snape is really quite understanding."

"To his compatriots in the Slytherin house, maybe," Hermione allowed. "But to the rest of us..."

At this, Blaise laughed aloud. "Well, it's not as if he's the only biased head of house. Professor McGonagall quite favors Potter."

Hermione reflected on this and sighed. "I suppose."

"Seriously, though," Blaise said, his tone suddenly grave. "Slytherins aren't all evil."

"Of course not," Hermione agreed. "All evil are Slytherins." She took a careful look at Blaise's expression, which seemed oddly pensive, for such a sunny day. And for somebody who claimed not to do homework on weekends. "Can you honestly say that you are not planning something?"

Blaise raised his hands up in a sign of defeat. "Alas, you've found me out, Hermione. I've fallen in love with you."

As expected, Hermione laughed at Blaise's antic. Still, Blaise found that it hadn't been as difficult to say as it should have been. Usually, lies still felt odd and stuck in his throat when he said it—which was why he resorted to carefully truth-telling most of the time. Perhaps, he was finally getting past that stage.

"I mean," Blaise continued. "Maybe Salazar Slytherin had a not-so-pure motive."

"That's one way to put it," Hermione muttered.

Blaise turned the full force of his blue eyes on Hermione. "But think about it, what kind of eleven-year-olds' most distinctive trait is cunning? Children don't learn to be cunning unless it's all around them. Unless they need to use it. These are children who grew up knowing that if they asked for something, they probably wouldn't get it. So they find another way to get what they want."

"Maybe." Hermione's tone made her doubt clear, though. "But that still doesn't make it right."

"But neither is leaving a child all alone all the time. Or not giving him food. Or making him go through 'education' and 'discipline' that really aren't legal."

"No... But don't you think these children should have learned that what their parents do aren't right?"

Blaise smiled a little at Hermione's innocence, where a world was truly black and white. "How do they learn? The world they're in is the world they learn about. And then even when they do go to school, they are placed with other children from the same kind of families. What can they learn, but that the world works this way?"

"I see what you mean." Hermione looked at the lake in front of her. The giant squid hadn't made an appearance yet. "They really shouldn't separate the houses the way they do."

At this, Blaise shook his head regretfully. "Not all of us can be saved, you know. Slytherins can't become heroes like Harry Potter."

"Of course they can," Hermione ascertained forcefully, startling Blaise. "Harry Potter became Harry Potter."

Blaise laughed. "Of course. But he's also a Gryffindor."

Hermione sighed and pursed her lips, debating whether or not to tell Blaise. Finally, she said, "Well, the sorting hat almost put Harry in Slytherin."

"But it didn't."

"Only because Harry asked for it." After a pause, Hermione added, "He didn't want to be in the same house as the murderer of his parents."

A bird flew past, above Blaise and Hermione's heads, as Blaise fell silent. They got up to walk their way back to the castle. There was a companionable silence as Hermione took her time to enjoy nature, and Blaise thought about what Hermione said.

Finally, at the entrance to the Gryffindor house, Blaise took both of Hermione's hands and said, "Thank you."

Hermione smiled back at him. "Like I said, not a problem."

Blaise didn't hold on as Hermione pulled her hands away from his. "Thank you anyways."


"It's been over thirty days," said Typhulus as he started his request. "And the chosen mate of the prince has yet to accept the bond."

"Yes, it's been over thirty days," Lucius agreed. "It's been thirty-one days. Today."

"And it is unlikely that the chosen mate will accept the bond despite the contract," Typhulus continued calmly, as if reciting a memorized speech, about which Lucius had a rather strong suspicion. "In which case, Harry Potter would have willfully killed the prince."

Typhulus swept his hands outward, so that the long white sleeves of his High Councilor robe waved dramatically. The golden embroidery glittered under the multitude of candlelight in the High Councilor Chamber.

"Therefore," Typhulus's voice rang out more confidently. "I propose that in order to avenge our prince, let us form an alliance against his murderer: Harry Potter."

After a momentary silence, Cray stepped forward. "Our prince is not dead yet, and let us not consign him to death by killing his mate. Then, we would be his murderers."

"Also," Saybran pointed out. "Let us not forget that there is yet another fifty-nine days until the process of choosing substitute Prince would begin, according to l'ancienne loi. Or that although Harry Potter had not yet accepted the bond, neither has he rejected it."

"Yes," Typhulus agreed reluctantly. "But there is only another thirty days until the contract the chosen mate signed comes into affect. It is almost as binding as an Unbreakable Vow. And we all know what happens when an Unbreakable Vow is broken."

Lucius stepped forward. "It is not quite as binding as an Unbreakable Vow, though."

"In either case," Typhulus said, ignoring Lucius. "I suggest we have an alternative plan."

"Of course," Lucius agreed. "An alternative plan is always a good idea, to be put into action after the primary plan fails. Although, I doubt that our prophesized prince would fail to live up to expectations."

"Prophecies only tell the probable future," Typhulus said. "Besides, the idea of 'redemption' is so vague that who knows what he is supposed to bring? Perhaps our prince is meant to bring us all to the next world and face Lucifer."

"Don't be blasphemous," Saybran rebutted sharply.

"Blasphemous?" Typhulus laughed incredulously. "Head High Councilor, have you forgotten that we killed God?"

"Of course I have not," Saybran snapped. "But I think you, High Councilor Typhulus, might have forgotten that our prince is our idol."

"So," Typhulus pushed impatiently. "How do the High Councilors agree regarding an alliance with Voldemort?"

Lucius stepped forward, but Saybran interrupted Lucius by saying, "I think we can agree to consider the possibility, if Harry Potter does not accept the bond in thirty days." Saybran took his responsibility to maintain order within the High Council in the prince's absence very seriously.

"If Harry Potter does not accept the bond in thirty days," Saybran continued. "We will first select a new Prince, who will decide whether or not to form this alliance." He turned to Typhulus. "I hope that you are content that the possible selection of a substitute Prince would be thirty days sooner."

When no High Councilor offered any objections, Typhulus bowed his head. "Very well, then, as the High Council agrees."

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