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Harry and Sirius fought side by side, and the Boy-Who-Lived felt alive. He was getting to fight next to his godfather, and sure, it was his fault they were here, but dueling, thinking on the fly, dueling, well it was nothing less than exhilarating.
The dark walls reverberated with the sounds of casting, light and dark alike glanced off walls, bricks cracked under the weight of power, the air smelled like pure magic, something Harry hadn’t even thought had a smell, and sound of manic cackling echoed throughout, coming from everywhere all at once.
“Nice one, James!”
That gave him a slight pause, a slight hint of confusion as he glanced at Sirius, before shrugging it off. Perhaps it reminded him of the days they used to duel together and- well wasn't that a thought? Could he ever be as good as his father when it came to dueling?
A breathless grin took over his face as he watched the Black cast the last spell and win. They had done it!
Perhaps that thought came a bit too soon.
All of a sudden the giggling stopped, replaced by, ”Avada Kedavra!”
The Killing Curse.
The same flash of green that haunted his nightmares, his eyes, his forehead, his ears. One chant, one spell that never failed to ruin his life. That took every foundation he thought was rooted too deep to crack, every chance he had at happiness.
And Sirius winced, inhaling a sharp breath through his teeth as his body seized up slightly in shock, the apology that flickered in his eyes as he gave Harry one last look.
“I killed Sirius Black, I killed Sirius Black!”
Harry… he didn’t think. He- Sirius-
As Sirius fell backwards through the veil, a weight closed around his chest, he could only look back and see amber eyes flash with something too anguished to even name, but the look on his face as he tried to be strong.
It was something he had seen on his own face countless times. But for it to be in anyone else was unacceptable.
He looked forwards, seeing black, unkempt curls flying through the air as Bellatrix ran away, giggling and shrieking words like mad.
Harry didn’t think. He moved.
Not towards Bellatrix, no. Perhaps in another life. Instead, he pulled away, frantically fighting against the strength of a werewolf as each moment seemed to travel in slow motion. He shoved through the veil, ignoring the pained gasp, the strangled cry of Lupin- no, Moony.
Perhaps, distantly, he realized this was a bloody stupid idea, but he couldn’t care less at the moment, laser focused on one man. He would save Sirius. And as his breaths came in puffs of- snow?, the teenager saw him.
The man Sirius was next to, though, was different. With inky black hair that fell in soft curls, and evershifting eyes, sometimes black, sometimes green, sometimes blue, sometimes everything- it rather reminded Harry of an ocean full of magic, if it could be compared to anything at all.
He was thin, and pale. The shadows that curled around the floor of this entire space rose to adorn his form. It was hard to not notice him. But Harry didn’t let it phase him. As Death - because that was who this being was, it couldn’t be anything else - extended a hand to his godfather, his family, one of the only people he had left-
Well Harry would never regret the next decision he made. He practically tackled Sirius in a hug. Clutching onto him like nothing else mattered. Because nothing else did. Sirius was his! Sirius was Harry’s, and not even Death could have him yet.
“Harry—“ Sirius murmured softly, comfortingly, a tinge of horror in his voice, even as his arms wrapped around the boy in turn. “—what have you done?”
Underneath his fingertips, the animagus’ skin started warming yet again, his deathly pale complexion returning to that of his normal one. He was less ashen, and his cheeks started regaining color.
“This is rather curious,” a foreign voice mused, “you seem to hold this man’s life above your own, Master.”
“Sirius-“ Harry barely managed, voice cracking. “Don’t leave, you’re not allowed to leave too-“
“I’m afraid you’ll have to let him go, Harry,” Death crooned comfortingly, one cold hand resting on his shoulder, his pure magic leaving an imprint even the Killing Curse had been unable to achieve.
“You can leave my realm alive, but I cannot say the same about him.”
“He’s right, pup—” the man rubbed circles into Harry’s back, “—my time has come. I’m sorry to leave you. This- was never meant to happen.”
“No!”
The sound was rather like that of Bellatrix’s- but more raw, pulling and scraping at his throat as it came out.
“You can’t- you-“ the savior of the wizarding world looked up into the eyes of Death, voicing one crazed idea. “If you take him, you take me too.”
The deity, for once, looked conflicted. It was a bit startling, but even more so satisfying, the emotion curling deep in his gut.
“Fate would kill me- … -Master’s request-“ he was muttering to himself, eyes locked on void black, before they snapped up.
“No.”
“Yes!” Harry spat with all of the force he could muster.
“No.”
“Yes!”
“No!”
“Yes!”
Death froze, his expression shifting to one of distaste, of annoyance, as he sighed in resignation, succumbing to the one person he had to. The Master of Death. The years had snuck up on him. He should’ve reaped this man’s soul when he had the chance.
“I will let him go on one condition, Master.”
The last word was spit almost like a curse, bitter.
“Yes! Yes, anything-“
“Make Tom Riddle whole again. He has evaded my embrace for far too long. Technically this would’ve already become one of your obligations in the future, but in order for me to argue with Fate, well, there has to be some sort of reasoning besides the fact that you asked.”
“Pup-“ Sirius protested, one hand raking through dark curls. “What did I say about letting me handle things from now on?”
Despite the fact that he was currently in the realm of Death, well, Harry laughed.
“Look where that got us,” he smirked, “You tempt Death much too much, Sirius.”
“I suppose that is true,” his godfather replied in turn, laughing, patting his back gently, before his expression became somber, sirius, again. “At least let me help you with your task. Don’t do this alone.”
“Of course, Padfoot.”
And Harry looked into the face of Death and smirked. “Deal.”
Almost instantly, the two were deposited outside of the veil, to the absolute shock of one werewolf as he frantically wiped away his tears, rolling over a groaning Sirius. He was the one who had softened Harry’s fall. Well, Harry thought, rather hysterically, he deserves this for scaring us that badly.
Lupin’s eyes shone gold in the dim lighting, as his trembling hands darted everywhere, afraid to touch, but afraid to not.
“You- you absolute- how-?”
“I’m okay, Moony,” Sirius managed, “I’m okay.”
Moony clung onto Padfoot with all of the strength he could muster, which was generally quite a lot, but he was weak, in this moment.
“Don’t ever scare me like that again-“
Harry felt like he was invading a private moment. Instead of listening in, he got to his feet rather jerkily, and strode off after Bellatrix, movements quickly turning to a run. How dare she, how dare she, how dare she!
When he saw her, seemingly having waited for him, saw her smile full of rotten teeth and her wand that was too crooked for her to be anything but, well. Well, he was angry, and he never could quite straight when he was angry.
The magic poured off of him in waves, from his heart to his arm to his finger tips to his wand, and the word, “Crucio,” slipped out in a whisper, one almost too quiet to hear, too dark to imagine the golden boy of light having spoken it.
And she collapsed. Her screams were basically music to him, filling the chamber once more, but in a less happy way, and more pain filled. She writhed on the ground, tear beading in her eyes, fingers and legs spasming as her nails dug into her arms and drew blood, and that wasn’t enough, he wanted her to hurt more-
Hands landed on his shoulders, warm and calloused. He spun, wand raising, heart pounding, only to see-
“My little snake,” Tom Riddle murmured, maroon eyes peering at him through long, dark lashes, “You never fail to surprise me.”
Harry swallowed, what he had done hitting him all at once. Not using the Cruciatus Curse on Bellatrix, no. Tom would forgive him for that. Willingly running through the Veil, one that meant instant death. No, the Dark Lord would not be happy with that.
“T-Tom- I-“
“Shhh,” He murmured, hand coming up to cradle his cheek. “I do not fault you, Harry. Do not misunderstand.”
And then he saw it. The way the man’s eyes darted all over his form, as if searching for injuries, not liking the blood that he could see, the slight tightening of his mouth around the corners, the emotion that was held there.
And then Harry was being pulled into a hug, of all things, if that were possible from Tom, one arm around his waist and the other on the back of his head, cradling it to Tom’s chest. Ever so slowly, the boy reciprocated, arms wrapping around the dark haired man’s middle.
“Tom?” Harry whispered, the Cruciatus Curse on Bellatrix falling, but he couldn’t care less about that right now.
“If you ever do that again,” the Dark Lord murmured into his hair, “I swear by Lady Magic herself-“
Was that vulnerability? Oh no, Harry did not know how to deal with this.
“My Lord?” came the weak, confused whisper.
Ah bugger.
Above Harry’s head, Tom glanced up coldly.
The look in his eyes was delicious.
He was able to turn in the man’s grip and see Bellatrix, on her knees, dark eyes shining with something other than insanity for the first time since her release from Azkaban.
“You killed Sirius Black, did you not?” His voice was dark, expression carved from granite.
“Y-yes, my Lord-“
“After my explicit orders to not cause any casualties?”
Oh. Harry melted into Tom’s grip. See, he had known that this had all been a part of the man’s plan- he had asked Harry to come to the ministry to see the prophecy together for Merlin’s sake! Though the request to bring his friends with him had been confusing, and the appearance of the Deatheaters even more so, he had trusted Tom’s plan.
He hadn’t recognized the discomfort he felt in the Dark Lord’s hold to be distrust until he realized that Sirius’ death had not been a part of the plan. He had ordered them to not kill? His chest felt warm. Harry knew it was for his benefit, no one else’s, that there was supposed to be no casualties. It made sense why the others had held back, now.
“But my Lord-!”
“Your service is no longer required, Bellatrix. Avada Kedavra.”
She collapsed, dead. Well. Again, satisfaction curled in his gut. A cruel, twisting thing, but there nonetheless, as a grin pulled at his lips.
“I knew you would come to enjoy death eventually, my little snake,” Tom murmured against his ear, a dark thing that caused Harry to shiver.
“We will discuss how you survived later,” he added, looking down at the boy, before pressing a soft, tender, possessive kiss to his forehead, right where his scar was.
“I must be leaving for now.”
“So soon?” Harry murmured, hand closing around Tom’s arm.
“I’ll meet you in your dreams tonight, and set up another meeting sooner than originally planned. For now… we’ll have to work out getting the prophecy some other way.”
Ah yes, Lucius had shattered it, hadn’t he? Tom wouldn’t be happy with that.
“Okay,” Harry agreed, slightly reluctant to pull away from the Dark Lord, but doing so nonetheless.
The man nodded, striding confidently over to Bellatrix and disgustedly resting a foot on her stomach, before disappearing with a crack!
Later that night, in the fifth year Slytherin dormitory bathroom, Harry broke down. He just needed a way to process everything.
“Merlin, Potter,” Draco muttered, pulling the boy out of his impending panic attack. “I swear, you’re fine one day, completely reckless the next. How the hell did the Sorting Hat place you in Slytherin?”
“Well,” Harry offered with a trembling grin, “It’s always right, y’know.”
“Yeah yeah,” the blond haired boy sighed, shaking his head and offering him a hand up.
The Boy-Who-Lived had needed that. Just a normal conversation with a friend, before he got back into the bloody clusterfuck that was his life.
“Tell me the whole story when you’re done, alright?” he sniffed, rather pompously. “And don’t take up too much time in here- I need to do my nighttime routine.”
A laugh was startled out of him. Classic Draco.
“No worries,” He smirked, “I wouldn’t dream of intruding on your skincare routine.”
“Bugger off, Potter,” He scowled, before leaving the bathroom and slamming the door behind him.
He was a rather dramatic git, but he was Draco, so it was fine. Harry scoffed, shaking his head, and climbing into the shower.
Afterwards, as steam curled around his ankles and water dripped from his hair, he stared at the triangle marking of the Deathly Hallows inked into his flesh, right where Death had touched him. A promise, a reminder.
Harry took a breath, pulling on a shirt (It was not one of Tom’s, shut up-). Tom had told him that he had destroyed all of his horcruxes, except for the locket that Regulus Black of all people had died to retrieve. That was his next mission. But instead of thinking about that for tonight, he stepped off of damp marble and onto cold stone.
Draco glanced up and put his Dark Arts book down, lazily brushing past. After curling up under warm, green sheets, the curtains were drawn closed.
He would think about everything he had to do tomorrow. He would start strategizing his next Wizengamot play tomorrow. He would find out what the Deathly Hallows symbol meant tomorrow. He would wonder about his excuse to give to Dumbledore for how he survived tomorrow.
For now, Harry was going to call Padfoot over the mirror. He was going to sleep and get to see Tom again. He was going to break down in the man’s arms, despite how embarrassed he would be the next day, and just hold onto the man he loved. He would live.
And he could sleep well knowing his godfather would too.