Looking for SS/DH/HP fic called Enigma - Summary inside

[Guest Guest_wakashi_*]

I've been post in fic section before still I haven't find it yet. The story it self call Enigma, I cannot remember author name.

these three are creatures, Draco is subteth and Harry is seperian. The latest chapter I've read is awhile ago, Draco is pregnant and Harry is submitted himself to Snape for saving Draco.

I've been looking through AFF, FF.net, HP Fandom, restrict section, Sliver Snitch and skyehawke. If anyone can suggest more site for looking, please let me know.

Also, I'll post a chapter below in case you want more detail.

Prologue- Year 6

The crush of the people, the wandering hands, accidentally brushing against covered skin. The weight of the cart before him and the sound of an owl resounding within the crowd. A flash of red disappearing up ahead, and the struggle to move, to even breathe. His muscles strained against the horde of people standing before him, pushing his cart as hard as he could. Then it was there, without one moment to spare, he pushed through. Hurriedly he boarded the large mass of rumbling metal as it prepared to move.

He had made it, Harry leaned against the wooden walls of the Hogwart’s express. He had thought for a moment that his crimson salvation would leave without him. He trudged tiredly through the throng of students milling about the halls. He found an empty compartment towards the back of the car, he trudged inside and dropped his trunk carelessly onto the leather interior seat, staring for a moments as the brown of the seat clashed garishly with the black of his sturdy chest. Sighing, he hefted up the empty owl’s cage, feeling a stab of pain in his chest. Hedwig.

Letting the owl’s cage fall to rest loudly beside of the trunk, he fell in a boneless heap onto the other bench seat. He fought against the exhaustion that threatened to consume him as he stared out of the train windows, watching the scenery fly by in a sickening melt of colors. His heavy eyes refused to stay open as they slowly inched their way close, and the glorious boy who lived drooped over into his seat in a rather undignified heap of a boy who was tired of living.

“Is this how you leave me, all alone and crying?” a broken man’s voice echoed throughout the empty house, Harry could tell he was broken because he could feel the emotions in the stranger’s heart beat strangely inside of his own, a ghost of the true emotion.

“You didn’t even give me a choice, you left without a word!” the man seemed to be screaming up at a colorful dome that sparkled above their heads, just within Harry’s vision.

The dome seemed to be a lion with a snake twisting around it. The initials G. S. embossed below it. Harry turned his attention back to the grieving man, the chestnut of his hair catching n the rainbow of color to reflect gold and then red. Tears streamed in small mournful rivers down the man’s smooth, flushed cheeks, constructed from sorrow and maintained from misery.

“Damn you, I love you. Come back to me, heaven does not need you yet and I still have many dreams which I have not yet fulfilled with you by my side. I cannot exist, my love, not without you,” the man was then reduced to aching sobs that ripped at his chest. Harry tried futilely to grab at the pain centered in his heart. It felt as if it were being ripped into a thousand pieces only to be caught in a flame so strong that he was positive no water, magical or otherwise, could quench its fury.

“What of our child, my love, what am I to do about him? Sal, answer me, come back to me, Merlin alive, just to hold me one more time, come back to me from the afterworld’s eternal glory, if only to hold me.... one more time,” the man’s voice slowly receded as his beautiful chestnut head dropped to his chest and then to the ground, an agonized scream following in its wake.

“Harry...?” someone shook him, interrupting the realistic dream and bringing him back into the world around him.

He looked up into dark brown irises that held a motherly worry that churned his stomach. He glanced over to the bench that had held his trunk and cage, but found it instead possessing the body of a red haired, freckle faced teenager. He looked above the scarlet tresses to find his belongings safely stored within their metal confines.

“Hermione,” he groaned in answer to her question, he sat up in the seat and stretched his sore back, feeling it crack a couple of times.

“We just got out of another agonizing session of ’prefect duty.’ Sorry about leaving you all alone, mate,” Ron wore a crooked grin that stretched the freckles on his face so that they huddled together in little masses upon the apple of his cheeks.

“I don’t care and you know it Ron, you have to see to your duties first,” Harry yawned out his answer, a bit coldly but reassuring to the red head nonetheless.

“Did you have a nice nap?” Hermione pressed as she took her seat beside of her boyfriend, wrapping one hand inside of the pale one resting on the seat.

“Not as nice as I would’ve had I not been interrupted,” Harry returned haughtily, sniffing the air in disdain.

Ron chuckled, clutching on to his girlfriend’s hand for his own security. Hermione raised a brow, opening her mouth to speak before she was cut off. The loud ringing bang of the door as it slid open froze Harry in his seat.

“Well, Potter, looks quite cozy in here. Of course the way the mudblood and Weasel are snuggled up, it looks like you may be out of a job. So when did the Golden trio turn into the Fucking duo? Poor Potter, all by himself and nothing to wank off to,” Draco drawled from where he stood, flanked by two other sixth year students.

Harry recognized the other two as the moved to stand alongside the arrogant platinum heir. The one to Malfoy’s left was Blasie Zabini, a dark skinned sixth year with a great body but a rather nasty attitude, and the one to the boy’s right was Pansy Parkinson, looking more like a muscled sumo wrestler than a threat but the girl packed a pretty good punch when it came to difficult hexes. He finally turned to stare at the sneering Slytherin himself and did something that no one expected, he laughed.

“What, pray tell, is just so funny Scar head?” Draco growled out as he took a threatening step forward.

“Oh, you know Malfoy you really are as ignorant as you lead others to believe. How can you talk about me having nothing to wank to, when I doubt you even know how. You’d be too afraid to get your girly hands dirty to do something of the sort, in fact I wouldn’t be surprised if your house elves jerked you off, for you,” even sexually unaware Pansy had to bite her lip not to laugh at that, because it made quite a mental image of Draco moaning as a house elf stood by his side with a sour look on their dour faces and a long bony hand wrapped around his lacking arousal.

“Potter,” Malfoy hissed, taking another step towards the dark haired boy.

“Don’t play with fire, Draco, you just might get burned,” Harry’s intense green eyes landed on molten silver as he escaped through the cabin door, dignity and pride intact, to leave his enemy nursing their wounds among comrades.

“Damn you, Potter!” the words floated down the hall and into Harry’s ear, Harry sighed and leaned once more against the wooden paneling.

“How do you damn the already damned, Draco, if only I knew how to damn a beast,” Harry groaned as he let his head fall viciously back against the hard hall wall.

The train arrived on schedule at the station which overlooked Hogwarts ground. The forbidding castle towering above them in all of its eloquence. Harry disembarked onto the high platform, watching as the grisly groundskeeper called for all of the giggling, happily naive first years to line up for the annual boat ride into the great castle. Harry only sighed and turned to the carriages. He stared at the disembodied thestrals as they stomped their hooves into the ground, their wings twitching anxiously.

He made his way over to one, it danced nervously the closer that he came. Pulling a silver blade inconspicuously from his pocket, he sliced into one finger and held it in the air directly in front of him. The creature seemed to calm, the smell of his own blood permeating the air as a curious tongue lapped at the blood. The thestral drew back and bowed deeply, its head coming into contact with the cold ground.

“Ah, I see. You know too, don’t you?’ Harry sighed, turning his back on the creature to climb into the carriage it was discreetly tethered to.

Chapter 1- Feast

The noise in the hall was deafening, the sounds almost as visible as the colors blurring before his eyes. He looked over to watch his friends’ hands secretly slip beneath the other’s robes, a bit over eager at the dinner table. Harry suddenly felt the urge to retch. Quickly looking away he fought to gain control of his senses, ignoring the throbbing headache that almost robbed him of what little sanity remained within the interior of the Great Harry Potter. He glanced around at the preoccupied students and poured another healthy draught of whiskey into his glass, charmed to mask its own smell.

Harry knew the whiskey was having horrendous effects upon his physical capabilities, but he also knew it was the only substance that staved it off. The darkness that seemed to encroach upon his soul with every beat of his hellish heart, with every tortured breath drawn into this living corpse. He felt the familiar prickle of tears as he glanced down at the gold plate before him, his emotions loosened up given the alcohol he had consumed. He batted his emerald eyes, keeping the weakening emotion at bay. He did not need to create bait for his inner demons, he could not create a reason for their escape from their locked cages inside of his black soul.

“Harry...? Mate, are you okay? You look a little flushed,” Dean stared at the boy, a question lurking in his chocolate depths that Harry just could not answer.

“I’m as fine as anyone could be,” ‘considering the amount of alcohol I have imbibed and the urge I have to lash out at anyone living,’ Harry silently added to his statement, watching Dean reluctantly turn away.

“Are you not going to eat, Mr. Potter?” Harry’s head snapped up to meet with his head of house’s cat like features, staring out at him from beneath the shadow of a tall witch’s hat.

“The food does not seem as appetizing as it usually does this year, Professor,” Harry, using his inborn wits, calculated his way out of the situation.

“Are you sure you are feeling well, Mr. Potter?” the professor pressed the situation for a moment and Harry nodded his head in a silent declaration of certainty.

“I think I’ve had enough of this feast, if you will excuse me, Professor,” Harry pushed his chair back from the table, the loud sound of one golden plate hitting the ground resounded through the somewhat silent room.

“Mr. Potter,” the professor began again, but he would not let her question him and just flashed her a somewhat strained smile before he began to walk away.

He knew he did not know the password to the portrait, so he did not bother straying in that direction. Letting his feet carry him in his deliriously drunken stupor, he headed for the owlerly. He made it into room, staring at the droppings and hay strewn about as casual décor around the room. He let out a rather bitter, short laugh, watching the rustle of feathers as the sound floated piercingly through the room. A few owls attempted flight, but refused to come close enough to Harry to successfully leave the tower. They were his victims, at his mercy and will. He shook his head at the irony of the statement, stumbling through the mess to one high window.

He looked out on the school grounds, watching the night caressing the expanse, the darkness inside of him needing to be free. He was a captive of his own body, he knew sooner or later that the urges would take grasp and he would have no choice, no choice but to soar. To fly beneath the moon’s ethereal glow, to feed on the innocent. He cried out, letting his voice carry over the grounds. To let the sound carry his turbulent emotions, freeing him for a moment from the painful press, the agonizing self hate that seemed to suck the life from what little of a heart he did possess.

“Haritsumeta yumi no,” the voice was enchantingly clear, the colors flowing through the wind and around a man, his silver robes glistening in the glow of the moon.

The flash of memory was fleeting, yet the image seemed to burn into the back of his irises. He felt a single tear sear a trail down his cheek, then freeze into a crystalline drop that fell heavily to the ground, forever testifying his sorrow. He stared at the crimson jewel and a self hatred filled him unlike any he had felt previously, he heard footsteps approaching but could not tear himself away from the window to look at whose shadow so darkened the doorway.

“Harry.”

“Potter.”