Content Warning!
(Regurgitating the Summary Part I)
This story contains slash elements (Harry Potter) and is rated 'R' for a reason (i.e. sexual situations, violence, strong language, and the author's tendency to wax poetic about bloody well everything). If you have difficulties tolerating relationships between two consenting adults who happen to be men, I would suggest you smack that back button at the top of your screen like there's no tomorrow and head on out of here before permanent damage is done to your fragile little mind. Also, this story has a fat lot of nothing to do with my other HP story, The Losing Side, and as such the events contained within either story have no bearing on each other whatsoever. That said, and assuming anyone stuck around past the first few sentences, thanks so much for coming and enjoy the show.

(Regurgitating the Summary Part II)
This story occurs in a world that exists as a result of Voldemort's triumph over the forces of Good. A world in which the whole of the muggle population of Great Britain has been crushed beneath the boot of their oppressive master. Where those who would not live beneath the reign of such a master lurk in dark places, hiding and scurrying and planning and waiting for the time when they will be able to rise up and seize control of their world once more. We enter the story five years after the final battle during which the last great stronghold, Hogwarts, fell before the Dark Lord's forces. Five years after the death of the child-hero known as Harry Potter during the last battle which had occurred directly following his seventh year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. As such, this story contains spoilers for all four books. Thank you and have a nice read.

To Rule in Hell

A Harry Potter Fan Fiction

Chapter 4 - Never to be Forgotten

By Antenora


The London Underground was a fearful place.

It was also a forgotten place.

Much had been destroyed during the first years of the Dark Lord's rule, leaving it a ruin of darkened tunnels and fallen stones.  Many tunnels were flooded during those years of destruction, flooded or destroyed completely.  Only the forgotten portions were left alone.  Stations closed long before Voldemort had waged his war against muggles and wizards alike.

It was in one of these that the refugees led by Hermione Granger had found their home.  They weren't the first to attempt to find haven in the safety of the Underground, but they had survived the longest.  They'd taken precautions to keep their home hidden, killed to protect themselves, and suffered through occasional bouts of starvation in order to avoid detection.  They had earned their peace.

Then Harry Potter had returned to them.  Like a Phoenix rising from the ashes.  It was a miracle.  It gave them all something to believe in.  And they did believe.  They believed that Harry Potter would save them all.  Make the world above safe for them to live in once more.  Certainly, they didn't see much of him, but that was because he was busy.  Busy with whatever it was that heroes do in order to make things safe.

Hermione was their leader, but Harry was their assurance.  Their assurance and their hope.  

And if there was one thing Padma Patil had in spades it was hope.

Hope that someday she would see the sun again.  Hope that someday her son would be able to run and play in the open air.  Hope that she would day be able to marry the father of her child and that they would be able to live in a small house somewhere far away from London.  Somewhere where the light shone all the time.

Padma smiled as she watched her son, Vincent, playing cards with his father and pulled her blanket tighter around her shoulders.  Life wasn't so bad just as it was though.  She had her husband and her son and that was really all she needed for now.  As long as they were with her, she could be patient and content as she hoped for a brighter future for them all.   

"Go Fish, Papa." Vincent called, giggling as his father made a face and drew another card from the deck.  "Do you have any sixes?"  

Gregory Goyle winced and handed over his sixes, wincing as his son set yet aside yet another batch of cards. "You're getting too good at this game, kid.  Padma, you're going to have to play it with him from now on.  I always lose."

"Which is why he likes playing with you best, sweetheart."  Padma replied, earning a grimace from her lover and another batch of giggles from her son.  

"I give, you win."  Greg conceded seating his cards down and leaning forward to give his son a quick kiss on the forehead.  "I have to go report for the watch."

"Okay, Papa.  Will you be back before Mum makes me go to bed?"

"I don't think so, kid.  Mind your mother," Gregory replied, smiling as he drew himself to his feet.

"That's right," Padma commented, as she stood and stepped to her lover, threading her thin arms around him.  "You be careful."

"I always am," he murmured, pressing a lingering kiss to her lips.  "I'll be back in a few hours."

"Okay," she whispered, kissing her husband once more and giving him one last squeeze before sending him on his way.  

Harry hoped down from the platform, landing on the abandoned tracks with a resounding thud.  His torch flickered a bit in protest to the jostling, before casting its dim light in a steady beam once more, revealing the shadowy recesses of the tracks.  Harry stared at the rusting tracks for a few moments before finally glancing back up at his companions, who were still hovering on the edge of the platform, staring at him with distrust in their eyes.  "It's quite safe.  You both know well enough that these tracks haven't seen any action in quite some time."  Harry grumbled, annoyed by their inability to believe that he just might have some idea what he was talking about.  That was truly what he hated most about this life.  Having to deal with people who couldn't or wouldn't trust him.  It made his life so much more difficult then it needed to be.

"Yeah, but hunters used to lay traps down there," Seamus murmured, his tone that of an adult explaining to a child that the stove is too hot to touch.  "There are still active ones lying about down there.  It's too dangerous."

"No doubt," Harry replied, a grim smile sliding into place on his lips.  "Perhaps the two of you had best take a safer route."

"We're not splitting up, Harry," Ginny murmured, glaring down at him.  "No one is allowed out of the base alone.  Least of all you.  You know that."

"Oh.  Silly me, I must have forgotten.  Hermione's orders," Harry chuckled, tossing his torch from hand to hand.  Back and forth.  

Back and forth.

"You know the rules are for your own protection, Harry."  Ginny whispered, her gaze trained on Harry's face. 

Back and forth.

"Do I?  Do I really?"  Harry inquired, his voice just above a whisper as he continued to his torch from hand to hand.  His face looked ghastly pale in the flickering light of his protesting torch.  "Why is it that I don't get to make any rules?  Aren't I the leader here?  Aren't I the one who is supposed to make the rules?"

Back and forth.

Ginny and Seamus both avoided his gaze, saying nothing, as they often did whenever he asked such questions.  

Back and forth.

"Silence says so much more then words, don't you think?  Now, are you coming along or am I going after him alone?"  Harry inquired softly, raising an eyebrow at the silent pair.

"Harry, stop it," Ginny protested softly.  Memories of time long past tugged at her as she stared down at her former boyfriend.  "Please just come back up."

"Sorry, I think I'll just go alone," Harry smiled and dropped his torch.  The glass shattered as it struck the tracks and Harry was swallowed by the darkness as the light went out.


She had been invisible to him.  Or perhaps he simply did not care who knew.  He had seemed rather proud of the fact.  Draco Malfoy was leaving Hogwarts.  He had received a summons from his father and would be off to join the battle that very night.

She didn't care, of course, but it seemed a tragedy that he would leave without the slightest repayment for the nasty things he'd done over the years to Ron and Harry.  If Fred and George had been there, they would have been able to think up a lovely prank.  A fitting send-off for the most incredible bastard they'd ever known.  But they weren't there, so she would have to ask Harry.

That's why she had gone to talk to him, but he'd spoken first.  He'd spoken the soft words which spelled the end of their relationship and torn her heart to pieces.  He was sorry.  So terribly sorry, but he couldn't be involved with anyone just now.  No, he had too much to worry about.  Tensions were high and the scent of war was in the air.  He couldn't be distracted.

She'd been so angry.  So terribly blinded by the silent fury inspired by Harry's soft spoken words and sorrowful expression. 

She'd loved him so much for so long and he wouldn't... couldn't... 

She knew him too well to believe that the war was the reason he was breaking her heart. And the fact that he'd lied to her, even in an attempt to spare her pain, had been the knife that cut the deepest.  

The anger had been slow to fade.  She thought now that, perhaps, had it faded a bit sooner she never would have decided to play such a terrible joke.  Not just on Draco Malfoy, but on her precious Harry as well.  It seemed like such a lovely idea at the time.  

She would be able to have her small revenge and no one would ever be the wiser.  Just a harmless prank which would give her a quiet giggle every time she thought back on it.

She had been so wrong.

So terribly wrong.

She'd sent the notes from the Owlery before hurrying down to the potions classroom.  It had taken almost too long to figure out a way to lock the cabinet so that they wouldn't be able to escape.  She'd hid herself away in the quiet darkness, tucking herself beneath Snape's desk where she'd be able to cast her spell easily without being seen and she's waited.  

She'd waited.

Waited so patiently for her victims to appear. 

Malfoy had come first.  His steps had echoed confidently through the cold darkness as he made his way to Snape's private storeroom.  She wondered if he'd done this before.  Been called to clandestine meetings in small closets.  Quiet lover's trysts or secret meetings of the nasty bastards society. 

Harry had arrived only a few moments after the last echo of Malfoy's booted footsteps had faded.  His steps were uncertain and he managed to run into several desks and a chair as he made his way to the closet.  She'd thought his quiet yelps and curses would give the game away, but Draco Malfoy had stayed still and silent within the confines of the storeroom.  Ginny had edged from beneath the desk, aiming her wand as Harry arrived at the entrance to the storeroom and stepped hesitantly inside.  "All right, who's there?"  Harry asked, his voice soft and tinged with uncertainty.


"Malfoy?!"  Harry rasped, careful to keep his voice soft in case there was someone about to hear him.

"What the hell are you doing here?!"  They accused simultaneously and Ginny smiled as Harry took a threatening step forward.  Ginny murmured a spell and the door swung shut, smacking into Harry's back and shoving him into the closet and Draco with a pained cry.   She whispered another and the lock stuck fast. 

Then she had waited.  She'd smiled as they fought and attempted to escape their small prison.  Her smile grew wider at Draco's irrational fear and Harry's quiet admonishments.  

Then silence.  Her smile had begun to wilt.

Quiet conversation that she couldn't quite hear.

And then...

And then she had heard Harry moan.


It was not a sound of pain, but pleasure.  Seconded moments later by a deep groan, which could have only have come from Draco Malfoy's throat.

The last traces of her smile had died a tragic death as she'd pushed herself unsteadily to her feet.  She'd stumbled backwards, horror and shock waging a vicious war in her breast.  Her heart had seemed to be pounding too loud in this room where silence was broken with the sounds of sex.  

She hadn't realized that she'd run from the room until she found herself sitting exhausted outside the entrance to Gryffindor tower.  The fat lady slumbered away within the confines of her portrait as Ginny sat against the wall, trying to find her breath and hoping to forget the sound of Harry finding some twisted pleasure in whatever he and Draco had been doing behind that locked door.


"Ginny?  You all right?"  Seamus inquired, jarring Ginny from her memories with sudden force. 

She stepped away from him, honestly shocked to discover that she was standing ankle-deep in sewer water deep beneath London instead of slumped against a wall at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.  It was a long moment before she was able to speak past the lump in her throat.  "I'm fine, Seamus.  Where's Harry gone?"

Seamus frowned, his gaze narrowing slightly.  "He's searching the tunnels.  We refused to go along and he pounced off alone.  Then we decided to go ahead and check another tunnel since he broke the only torch and we didn't want to try and find him in the dark.  Weren't you paying attention?"

"No, I don't suppose I was," Ginny replied, turning away from Seamus' penetrating glare and sloshing forward through the muck.  "Don't look at me that way.  I don't like it."

"Sorry," Seamus muttered, though his tone said otherwise.  She knew perfectly well what Seamus Finnigan thought of her.  He made his dislike and distrust evident in every word he spoke to her, in every look and gesture.  Seamus had never been a subtle sort of person.

"I don't care," Ginny grumbled finally, as much in response to her thoughts as Seamus' words.  "Let's just find the prisoner and get back.  I hate the stench of this place."


Twenty minutes after leaving the main living quarters, Gregory Goyle opened a door and stepped into the realm of chaos which had formerly been known as headquarters.  People were scrambling about with a kind of hurry that he hadn't seen in years.  Not since the days when attacks on their hideaway had been a nearly daily occurrence had he seen or heard quite so much chaos within this particular suite of rooms.  Usually, Hermione or Harry saw to it that when disasters threatened they were handled quickly, efficiently, and most importantly, with absolute and complete silence.

Well, actually, he was pretty sure that Harry had been the one who had actually really dealt with the threats when they arose.  After all, it had been Harry who had saved his life during the war.  He still remembered the battle.  It had been a few months before the final battle at Hogwarts.  He and Vince had stayed on at Hogwarts after Draco had left on orders from the Dark Lord.  They were supposed to infiltrate Dumbledore's army when it arose and betray them when the time came.  So that's what they did.  They'd joined Dumbledore's army and fought in the battles and waited for the word from Voldemort.  A word which had come a few months before the battle at Hogwarts.  

Problem was, they'd begun to like the people they fought alongside.  Mudbloods and purebloods alike.  They liked them a lot.  Potter had been one of their favorites, but not because he was the boy who lived.  Nah, they'd liked him because he didn't talk down to them.  Didn't treat them like they were less.  He'd actually gone out of his way to befriend them after they'd all graduated from Hogwarts and treated them as if they'd been people of value to him.  After Weasley had died at the Battle of Dublin, Harry had been their near constant companion.  It was almost as if he and Granger couldn't stand to be around each other anymore.  Sometimes death brought people together, sometimes it just pushed them further apart. 

So after that, when they won battles, Harry would celebrate with them.  Usually Cho, Pansy, and Justin would come along as well since they'd all been members of the same squad.  Sometimes Granger put in an appearance whenever her squad was in the same area, but it was usually a very brief appearance and Harry had always seemed on edge when she was about.  He still wasn't sure when it had happened exactly, but somewhere between the victories and defeats, he and Vince had elected Harry Potter as their new leader.  

They were followers, always had been, and for years they'd followed Draco.  Draco who usually treated them like glorified servants instead of friends.  They didn't blame Draco for that, it wasn't really his fault, it was his father's fault.  And his mother's fault.  For teaching their only son that friendship wasn't real.  That friendship was only a really cunning way to use people.  Sometimes, late at night, Gregory still found himself wondering if he'd ever really known Draco Malfoy at all.  

Harry Potter had been their friend.  As good a friend as they'd ever had outside each other and so when it had become time to betray their comrades, they'd refused.  It had felt good.  Real good.  And they'd both gone into battle at Harry's side with a smile.  

Then Vince...

Vince had stepped in front of a killing curse cast by his own father to save Gregory's life.  He'd told him to run and stepped in front of curse like it was nothing.  Vince had died saving his life and he hadn't been able to honor that by doing as Vince had asked.  He'd just stood their dumbly, staring at Vince's cold body and then looking up to see his father smiling at him from across the field, his wand extended and the curse on his lips. 

No one liked a traitor.


"Move, Gregory!"  Harry shouted, grabbing hold of the back of Gregory's robes and shoving him behind a nearby boulder.  "Apparate now!"

"I can't just..."  Gregory began, startled into silence as Harry punched him square in the face.  Not hard enough to do any real damage, but he stared at Harry in shock. 

"There's too many.  We have to retreat.  You know the meeting spot.  I'll get Vince."


"One more fucking word out of you, Gregory, and I'm going to weld an iron plate over your mouth.  Get going!"

"I'm just trying to tell you that Vince is already dead," Gregory murmured, tears already running liberally over his cheeks.

Harry nodded, his eyes seemed so old in that moment and when he spoke his voice was soft with pain, "I know he is, Gregory.  Now go."

Gregory had nodded silently and followed Harry's orders.  


When he'd met up with Harry and the rest of their squad at the meeting spot outside Moydrum Castle, Harry had Vince's body with him.  They'd buried nearby beneath a clump of trees.  It had been a nice sort of place.  Vince would have liked it.  He'd said once that he'd have liked to live in the forest if he could, just out in the open with only trees and the sky above him.  

Gregory had been at the battle when Harry had died.  He'd watched the Dark Lord cut him down and as others had fled, he'd hidden himself away.  Hidden and waited until Voldemort's attention was elsewhere and then he'd stolen Harry's body away.  Because Harry would have done the same for him.

He hadn't known what would happen.

Still, he was glad Harry was alive.  Even if Harry had been fucked up six ways from Sunday by whatever they'd done to him.

So, as Gregory Goyle stared at the chaos which surrounded him in the small makeshift office that made up their headquarters, he knew that whatever had the others scrambling about so frantically was definitely not Harry's fault.  Whatever it was, it was definitely Granger's fault.

He stepped all the way into the room and shut the door behind him, his eyes seeking and finding the closest of his old teammates.  

Justin Finch-Fletchley was sitting at his desk, leaning back in his chair with his feet propped up on the desk, his hands folded on his chest.  He looked tired, having no doubt just come off the night watch.

"What the hell's going on?" Gregory murmured, crouching down beside Justin's desk.  

Justin inclined his head and offered Gregory a tight smile, "Your guess is as good as mine.  Sounds like someone really stepped in it this time and I can't figure out if it was Harry or Hermione."

"What do you mean?"

"Charlie's saying that they he helped Harry capture Draco Malfoy.  But no one seems to know exactly where the prisoner's gotten off to.  We can't find Harry and Hermione just keeps saying that it's all under control, when it's obviously not.  Word is that Malfoy's escaped, but no one can seem to figure it out.  I mean, he's supposed to be stupid or something, isn't he?"

Gregory grunted in confirmation before standing up and making his way towards Charlie Weasley, who was currently sitting on the edge of a desk rapping out a Congo beat on his knees with one hand and holding a bottle of whiskey in the other.  Beside him sat Cho Chang, who was shaking her head and looking as if she might very well kill someone in the very near future.  "What's going on?"  He asked, purposely stepping up beside Charlie to avoid accidentally becoming the target of Cho's wrath.  He knew her well enough to know that if she couldn't take her anger out on the person she was pissed at, she wasn't above finding a substitute.

"Shit," Charlie replied, taking a sip from his bottle.



"Great.  Where's Granger at?"

"Back in the meeting room cursing Harry to the bottom of the Atlantic, I expect."  Cho commented, shooting a glare in the general direction of the meeting room.

"Nice," Gregory murmured, glancing back and forth between the two friends.  "They having another fight?"

Charlie shrugged, taking another sip from the whiskey bottle before offering it to Gregory, "They usually are."

Gregory nodded, taking the bottle from Charlie and taking a long swig.  The alcohol burned down his throat, warming his stomach.  He appreciated the warmth, "So where's Draco?"

"Not here," Charlie replied, taking the bottle back and taking another sip before handing it off to Cho.

"The wicked bitch of the west let the little bastard escape.  I knew this was a bad idea," Cho grumbled, polishing off the whiskey in one long drink and dropping the empty bottle into the garbage can beside the desk.  The crash of breaking glass went unnoticed as people continued to scramble about the room.  Cho hated Hermione.  Hated her more than Gregory had previously thought it possible for one person to hate another, unless the other was the Dark Lord, of course.  Though why she despised Hermione so much was a matter of much debate as neither Cho nor Hermione would ever say a thing about it.

"So why is everyone running around here like the end of world is coming?"

"Hermione's got them all scrambling about preparing for a move."


Charlie sighed loudly, leaning back on his elbows.  "She wants to move everything into the living quarters if Draco Malfoy isn't caught.  For the sake of security."

"What's Harry think of this?"

"Who knows?  He's out tracking Malfoy," Cho murmured, tugging at one of her braids distractedly.  "He only has Ginny and Seamus along as back-up.  Fat lot of help they'll be.  Might as well have sent him out alone."


Draco sneezed, pressing his shirt tighter against his face as a cloud of dust rose up in the sneeze's wake.  His eyes ached and it was difficult to see through the tears that had begun blurring his vision from almost the moment he'd pulled himself up into the vent and begun the slow, crawling journey towards freedom.  The vents were dark as pitch and going was slow as he was forced to stop every few minutes to sneeze and wipe at his tearing eyes.  But other than that his escape had so far gone without event. 

He turned about in the small, cramped tunnel and kicked at the grate which blocked his path.  It took six good stomps, but the grate finally fell away with a squeal of protest.  The sound of iron clattering onto the floor below the opening was far too loud for Draco's liking, but he ignored it and crawled backwards to the opening.  He pushed himself out of the tunnel, dropping silently to the ground below.  Years of stalking through darkened alleyways had taught him the art of silence as necessity.  Oddly enough, those he hunted would seldom wait about for him to catch them if they heard him coming.

He dropped into a crouch, his fingers instinctively closing over the iron grate.  He lifted it tentatively, testing its weight.  It was light enough to lift and swing easily, but heavy enough to do damage.  He had a weapon.  A crud, rather stupid weapon, but a weapon none the less.  He felt considerably better with the weight of the grate in his hand as he drew himself up to his full height and surveyed the large dark tunnel in which he found himself.  



Concrete and steel.  

The Underground.

"Joy," Draco muttered irritably.  He'd always hated the London Underground.  Well, not always.  He hadn't really even had the foggiest idea what the London Underground was until just before his sixth year at Hogwarts.

That was...

"No. Not now," Draco whispered, shaking away the pull of memories and trying to ignore the fear rising in his chest.  He wasn't sixteen anymore.  He wasn't a child.  He could handle this place for a few minutes at least.  Long enough to leave this place.  Long enough to get to the flat he used when he was on the hunt.  Long enough to lock the doors and sink into his own soft bed.    Then he could remember.  Remember it all.  The fear he'd found in the Underground.  The passion he'd found in the Potions' closet.  A great wide world of hate and fear and regret.  And then he could shake and shiver and curse the world and Harry fucking Potter until he was blue in the face.  And the world would be normal again once he had a nice nap and discovered this whole ordeal had been some kind of sick, twisted dream.

Nodding resolutely, Draco scanned the tunnel once more in an effort to figure out which way would be the quickest way out.  He finally decided that left was as good a direction as any and had managed to take no more then five steps in that direction when he heard a soft chuckle echo through the dark.

"You've been very naughty."

Draco had to stifle the urge to scream as his eyes belated recognized Potter's form leaning against the wall just a few steps further along down the tunnel.  "This is completely unacceptable!"  He snarled, realizing even as he said it that it was an amazingly ridiculous thing to say.  "I did not just suffer through the tunnel of endless dust to end up being caught by you!  Especially you!  How the bloody hell did you even find me?!  You can't possibly have tracked me.  Not with me in the vents and you in tunnels and don't even tell me that you've crawled through vents before, because that is absolutely ridiculous.  I hate you!  I absolutely fucking hate you!"  

"Are you quite finished?  You sound like a spoiled child when you're angry, Malfoy."  A smile curved Potter's lips as Draco's expression morphed from frustrated to furious at his comment.  

"No, fuck you very much, I am not finished.  And, I'm definitely not going back to that little hideout of yours, by the way.  I'm going home and taking a damn shower."

"You should.  You're filthy," Potter murmured, taking a step closer so that he was just outside of arm's reach.  "But I don't that's something which could be helped by a shower."

"Fuck you, Potter." Draco replied cheerfully, smiling as he took a step forward and swung the grate with all his might.  The metal grate connected with the former Gryffindor's head with a sickening crack and he dropped like a stone.  With a grim smile, Draco tossed the grate towards the far wall and stood staring down at his fallen captor.  His smile faded a bit when he realized that he couldn't tell if the smug bastard was breathing or not and before he realized what he was doing he found himself bending down to check.



Harry grabbed the blond as he stooped down beside him, throwing him onto his back and rolling with him, putting all his weight on top of the smaller man.  His head was blistering with pain, but he'd had his share of pain.  Enough to learn how to push the pain aside.  There would probably be time later to find out how much damage Malfoy had actually done and if there wasn't, then there was even less reason to worry about it now.  "That hurt," he murmured, snatching hold of Malfoy's pale wrists and slamming them down against the concrete.

"I hit you with a big piece of iron, Potter.  It's supposed to hurt," Malfoy growled, struggling against Harry's hold and finally managing to wretch one hand free.  He groped for purchase, clutching a hank of dark hair and yanking it with as much force as he could muster.  The sudden pain blackened Harry's vision and when the shock was over he found that Malfoy had managed to reverse their positions.

He was pinned to the ground beneath the smaller man.



The fear was sudden, irrational, and refused to be denied.  

"Get the fuck off of me," Harry hissed, shoving at the blond furiously.

"What's the matter, Potter?  You used to like it when I was on top," Malfoy growled, as Harry struggled beneath him.  

"Get off!"  Harry yelled, giving him a final shove which sent the blond rolling off him.  Harry scrambled backwards until his back contacted the wall, his knees pulling to his chest instinctively.  "Shit.  Shit.  Shit," he murmured, the pain in his head momentarily forgotten as he stared out unseeing into the darkness.  The memories were too harsh, too blinding like sudden light in a darkened room.  


The pain of the curse.  

A voice in the darkness.  

So familiar.  



Lost soul.

Pinned like a butterfly to a board.


"How nice to see you again, Harry Potter."


"Snap the fuck out of it!"

Harry was forced back into reality on the wing of Draco's shouted words and the crack of a hand against his cheek.  Things almost-remembered fled in a shock of pain from his aching head and he glared at the man crouched before him.  "What the fuck do you want?  Shouldn't you be escaping right now?"  Harry snapped, his fingers digging into the rough material of his jeans.

"Well, yes, I most certainly should be escaping right now, but I just spent fifteen minutes wandering about and I can't seem to figure out which way is out."  Draco grumbled, and his cheeks seemed rather red in the flickering light cast by an emergency light further down the way.  Funny.  Harry didn't remember there being an emergency light in this tunnel earlier.  It seemed everything had been very dark when he'd come down here to wait for Draco to emerge from the vents.  

"Did you turn the light on?"  Harry murmured, his gaze focused on Draco once more.

"No.  I thought maybe you'd done that.  It was on when I came back down this way," Draco replied.

"Why are we sitting here having a civil conversation?"  

"I have no idea," Draco replied, pausing to sneeze and rub at his nose with the back of his hand before flopping down on the floor.  "You want to tell me how to get out of this place?"

"Now why, oh why, would I want to do that?"

"Because if you don't I'll hit you with another grate."


"Think so?"

"No," Harry murmured, laying his aching head against his knees.  "Take the tunnel to the left.  Pull yourself onto the first platform you come to.  There will be a broken door leaning against the wall.  Move it and follow the stairs up.  That will take you out."

"Why are you being so agreeable all of a sudden?"

"I didn't want you here.  I don't want you here.  In fact, I want you as far away from me as possible.  I'd kill you, but that would take just a bit more effort then I feel like putting forth at the moment.  Now, go away."  Harry growled, lifting his head so that he could look into Draco's glittering gray eyes.  "However, if you come back down here, I will kill you."

"Whatever makes you think I'd want to come mucking about in the Underground by choice, Potter?"

"I know you," Harry replied coldly.  "Now, get out of here."

"How you planning to explain my miraculous escape to your little minions?"

"Why do you care?"

"I don't."

"Then why are you asking?!  And why the hell are you still here?!"  Harry exploded, thrusting his feet out and making contact with Draco's chest with enough force to shove the blond backwards.

"I want to know, damn you!  I want to know, why you couldn't just die like a normal person!"  Draco snarled in reply, his face contorted with rage as he scrambled to his feet.  "Anyone else gets hit with the killing curse, they die.  They all die.  They get lovely flowers and a nice stone proclaiming lies about the goodness and grace of their person.  But, not you!  Oh no, not the miraculous Harry fucking Potter.  You survive it once and you become a bloody legend.  What the fuck do you get for surviving it twice?  Your own star in the heavens?! Oh, except I forget that you didn't survive, did you?!  You're dead.  And yet still you manage to plague me.  Somehow, I'm not terribly surprised."

"Malfoy," Harry began his voice deceptively calm as he slowly pushed himself to his feet.  "Go.  Away."

"What are you going to do, Potter?  Are you really going to kill me?  Do you think you could actually do it?"  Draco taunted, "Think you're good enough?  Want to find out?"

Harry closed the last distance between them, his fingers clutching at the front of Draco's t-shirt and pulling the blond flush against him.  The darkness in his eyes at the moment thrilled Draco nearly as much as it frightened him.  "You don't want to know, Malfoy."

"I think I do," Draco murmured, his breath hot against Harry's face.  "I really think I do."

"You will," Harry replied, a smile dancing on his lips as he released his grip on Draco's shirt and stepped away.  "Now, go run on home, puppy.  I'm sure you're master misses you."

An answering smile quirked Draco's lips, "I'll be seeing you, Potter."

"Not if I can help it, Malfoy," Harry murmured and the emergency light flickered and went out, casting them into darkness.  

By the time Draco could see once more, Harry Potter was gone.  

Almost as if he'd never been there at all.


~ to be continued ~


Author's Notes:

For the confused, the Goyle & Crabbe who were killed in chapter one were Goyle Sr. and Crabbe Sr.  :)

And, yes, I know there isn't a whole lot of Hermione-love in this chapter but that's because I chose to focus in on the introduction of people who were more loyal to Harry during this chapter, but next chapter I'll get to broaden up the horizons a bit and even things out.  :)

Next up: Chapter Five in which Draco discovers that you really can't go home again, and Harry's motivations for letting Draco go are revealed. Also, in which there is even more resistance in-fighting, more rampant guilt, more memories, more about the nature of (Harry's) death, Snape, and Neville Longbottom.


Many thanks to: Lightbringer, Reena (I'll let you draw your own conclusions for now. ^_^), Blue Moon, HoshiShoujoKageShinigamiBunnyB, JadeDragon, Curlytwirl (Aha!  I've finally managed to traumatize someone.  Hooray for me!  ^_^  And Snape will be putting in his two cents in the next chapter.), Kouji, Keeper0124, Kay, Liz, Arwena, Jewel, Earthquake, Aurora, Angela, Orange, Plumeria, Anonymous Persons, Girlie-O, Jen (Both of you ^_^), yiota, AngelKity, chrisseee667, Moonchild, The Red Dragons Order, Kay, Anne Phoenix, Lyansidde, Sparks, MistWalker, Crimson Nightmare, Radical Ed, Moonchild, Sideproject, Jinsei, Demeter, Katma, bwaybaby79, ChibiWhiteFerret, Maya (*insert suitably evil laughter* And I am completely unremorseful for shocking you and hope to do it a few more times before TLS and TRiH are over. *grin*), Cher, Jen, Arwena, Darklites, Tariel (You killed me with laughter with that freak comment, I'll have you know. *grin*), Jessica, Lucinda K, Amalin, IckleRonnikins (Sex on a stick... heh. *grin*), Someonesgurl, Clayr, black_ink, Connelly (Drakey? *twitch*), Abaddon, and Kristina.


Harry was killed four years before the main action takes place, correct? And then he woke up three days later, and was kept imprisoned for 2 years, leaving 2 years out in the open working with the resistance group before snatching Draco?  Am I correct?  (Kouji)
Pretty much. :)

What did Harry mean by 'being tied to that bastard'?  Is it just about his personal feelings, or does it have something to do with some kind of a magic bond between them?  Soulmates etc.? (Moonchild)  Yep, you're going to have to wait for the answer to that one.  Though I will say that it is a combination of many things and is quite a complicated mess.  :)

When DID Harry care about his appearance?  During his Hogwarts years? (Moonchild & Aurora)  Not a canon point, obviously.  But I assume that as Harry got older, he would begin to care more about his physical appearance, especially if he were dating. ^_-  (No, not for Draco, darling.  He could have given a damn less what Draco thought of his appearance.) 

Was Harry the boy Hermione loved in silence? (Moonchild)  Yes.

Where's Ron? (Darklites)  Dead as a doornail.  (I love writing Ron in TLS, but he didn't fit with this story.  I just couldn't imagine Ron surviving the war.  With his temperament and his friendship with Harry, he would never have been content to stand on the sidelines and let his best friend go into dangerous situations without him.)

Draco and Harry's relationship is not going to be cherries and cream, is it?  (Demeter)  *lol*  No. 

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