Star Crossed Lovers

(Prologue)

The door creaked open and a cruel looking man entered the shabby little room. The room was dark and it held nothing of much interest, except for the mirror that stood quietly at one side of the room, showing a young teenager, sleeping serenely on a rather grand looking bed.

In the room, an exact duplicate of that boy sat at the edge of a four-poster placed in the middle of the room, head cupped in his hands. His facial features were not clearly distinguishable, but that silver blond hair was unmistakable. He was roughly around sixteen years of age and had an extremely pale complexion.

Then a voice, cold and menacing, rang throughout the room, "Draco, I've come to pay you a visit. Has it been lonely here?"

The boy called Draco raised his head to look at the man directly in the eye. His expression only contained one meaning: hatred. The intense loathing in that pair of pale silver eyes was beyond imagination. "Spare me your pretense. What do you want from me now?"

That man laughed, highly amused, "You know what I want."

Draco's face betrayed a minute tinge of fear, although he continued to feign ignorance, "No, I have no idea what you are talking about. All I know is that even if you force me to obey you, it will be against my will and you won't gain any pleasure from it. The Imperius curse may force me to do what you want, but it doesn't get rid of my hate for you, Voldemort."

Voldemort's face contorted with anger, "You may hate me, but do you think I care? As long as I still am able to get you to do what I want, I do not care if you are a willing party! I am very disappointed in you Draco, son of Lucius Malfoy, my most trusted Death Eater, by now you should have learnt that whatever I say are orders, it is not up to you to decide whether or not you like it. My wish is your command. Do you not understand such simple terms?"

Draco's lips thinned, "I'll never comply to your wishes even if you kill me. It is true that I wish to gain my father's praise, for him to be proud of me, proud to have me as his son for once, and muggles have a right to study magic I will not torture them or kill them, just to serve a cruel monster like you--"

His words were cut off sharply by an Unforgivable Curse. "Crucio!" Voldemort muttered, almost lazily and he watched in evil satisfaction as Draco fell to the floor and writhed in pain. "How does it feel? Are you in pain, my dear Draco?" Voldemort's face broke into a wicked grin. "Are you still sure about defying my orders now?" Draco didn't answer; he just turned away, not wanting to give him the delight of seeing the tears that were welling in his eyes, threatening to overflow. Voldemort felt his grin widen. He stopped Draco's pain in a wave of his wand and stood over him taunting, "Our dear Draco doesn't seem so brave now does he?"

Draco lay on the floor, completely drained of whatever energy he had. It took him a great deal of effort just to mutter three words, "Just kill me."

"Why Draco, you know I could never bear to lose you. You play a role too important in the prophecy, I wouldn't dream of killing you," muttered Voldemort. "Besides, it would completely be the opposite of what I intend to do. I wouldn't waste such a young and pureblood boy away by killing him. I would only do what I think is worthy." In a quick swish of Voldemort's wand, Draco found himself back in the position he hated most. He was lying flat on his back on the bed and he knew what was about to come as he saw the evil Lord's face looming just inches above him. "Such pureblood... so pure... so young..."

Without any further warning, he swooped down to claim Draco's lips with his own in a demanding kiss which only got more brutal as time ticked by. It hurt enough to bruise. It was as if he only wanted to devour the pureblood boy and nothing else mattered.

The cruciatus curse had left Draco completely defenseless and he had no more energy left to refuse this tyranny. Where he would have resisted usually, he let his tears run freely down his cheeks and gave no response.

After a while, Voldemort drew away from Draco rather reluctantly. "Why should you cry Draco? There are so many out there who would willingly do anything I asked them to just to gain power. They would give anything to be in your position, although none of them could give quite so much pleasure as you do," said Voldemort as his cold fingers gently caressed the face of the boy. "You should feel honoured that I take such liking in you. I could give you power, more than you can imagine and all you have to do is just ask me."

Draco managed a weak reply. "It is not power that I want. It is freedom from you, monster."

Voldemort laughed, "Freedom from me? You will never be free from me, wherever you go, I'll get you back, and I'll stay with you forever and haunt you in your nightmares." Then he hissed into Draco's ears, "Besides, I know your weakness."

"I don't have a weakness!" Draco protested.

"Oh really?" taunted Voldemort. "Both of us know that you are the good side of Draco, the kind but weak side. You wouldn't be able to bear seeing hundreds or even thousands of muggles killed because of you. You have realized your importance in the prophecy and I shall not deny it. I admit that I cannot afford to kill you, but you will soon learn that the Dark Lord has other ways of getting one to obey him, out of their free will."

Draco's eyes widened in horror. "No, you wouldn't..." Voldemort's face was in a twisted grin and Draco realized that the Dark Lord means his words. "You monster..." he rasped, unable to control himself. "You can't... Please... Don't do this. Do what ever you like to me, just don't hurt anyone else."

"Typical!" mocked Voldemort, his lips still retaining its wicked grin. "You really are the good half of Draco. And I should add weak at that too. But I give you my word that I wouldn't do something like that, unless, of course, you give me a reason to, Draco. Like a sudden failure to obey me for example..." He stopped there and waited for his words to take effect. Clearly, he was enjoying every moment of this.

Realizing that he had no choice, Draco admitted defeat. "I'll give you what you want. Just leave others out of this."

"You realize that this is your weakness," said Voldemort as he walked away from the bed and towards the door. "And I despise weakness. However, I can make exceptions for you. But I have had enough for one night; I shall go and arrange some important matters regarding the prophecy."

"What exactly are you doing?" Draco asked, eager to know more about what the Dark Lord was planning.

"I certainly do not owe you an answer, so give me a good reason to." Voldemort retorted.

The droop in the boy's head was clearly visible, apparently disappointed because the Dark Lord had refused to give any further information. Trying to ignore that, he shot another question at Voldemort. "Then can you at least tell me when you plan to merge me back with my other half?"

"It will be soon. Have patience my dear boy. The prophecy will take place soon enough." Voldemort said distractedly as he left the room.

Draco wondered how long exactly was soon. He needed to now how much time he had to attempt to foil Voldemort's plans. Draco had to do something to stop Voldemort's plans. He was the only one who knew about this plan as he was the only one involved in it. Voldemort was certainly taking no chances this time; he wasn't going to let his plans fail yet again. Draco had to at least warn someone, but how? What could a sixteen year old boy do against the world's most evil sorcerer? He was locked up in this room everyday and he never got to get out of it. He had no idea where this place was. All he knew was why he was here: to fulfill the prophecy made hundreds of years ago.

Thinking about it, the words of the prophecy rang true in his head.

The Star Crossed Lovers,

Doomed to suffer seven lifetimes.

One with the power to kill and destroy,

One with the power to heal and save.

Unable to be together,

Their bitterness will affect the world in deep measures,

So that nothing but sadness and despair will roam the Earth.

Their powers will surpass any,

Many will fight to gain it.

But no ropes will be able to harness it.

Their powers will be used to save the world,

Or to destroy...

Draco had only heard the prophecy once, through Voldemort himself. He was sure that Voldemort only explained it to him because he was needed in his plans.

Somehow, Voldemort had heard about Draco's powers to heal through Lucius and he had assumed that Draco was one of Star Crossed Lovers and he wanted to use the power of the Star Crossed Lovers to bring bitterness to the world. Draco thought that the idea was ridiculous, but Voldemort was so bent on gaining power, he would grab any chance.

Voldemort had taken Draco in the summer just after he was nearly defeated by Harry Potter in the event of trying to get the Philosopher's Stone. His soul was dealt a heavy blow again, but he did not die. Instead, he came upon the seer, Drusina, and found out about this hundred year old prophecy, which was due to happen soon. He possessed her and extracted all the information he could from her.

With this new body, he contacted one of his more trusted deatheaters, Draco's father, Lord of the Malfoy manor, Lucius Malfoy. As far as Draco knew, Voldemort did not reveal exactly what he wanted to do to his father, but had ordered the man to search for those with the ability to heal. As luck would have it, Draco possessed this power and Lucius knew it. So, delighted that his son could be of use to the Dark Lord, he had told Voldemort all about it.

Wanting to be sure, Voldemort made Narcissa fall very ill, so that even the best healers could not save her. Draco was never close to his father, but his mother was different, she was not as cold as Lucius towards their son. Naturally, when he got back from Hogwarts and heard this news, Draco was distraught. He remembered holding his mother's hand one day, wishing she would wake up from her deathly slumber. Incidentally, he transferred some of his powers to her and she was healed.

Voldemort was convinced, not to mention delighted, but still, he did not tell Lucius of his plans. He needed to take Draco with him, but he could not do so without his Death Eater knowing his son was gone. So he invoked dark magic and performed the spirit splitting magic and separated Draco into two whole beings. He got his solution. However, one of the side effects of the spirit splitting magic was that the half was always not perfectly divided, thus a kinder Draco and one that was easily provoked by hatred was created. Voldemort took the kinder Draco, thinking that he would be easier to manipulate. He gave orders to Lucius not to speak word of what he had told him about the prophecy to anyone on punishment of instant death. Then he modified the memory of the Draco he left behind so that he could not reveal what really happened and left with the kind Draco. Since then, the boy had stayed with him for as long as he could remember.

Before he left however, Voldemort gave Lucius a memory of his sixteen year-old self, preserved in a diary and thus came about the Chamber of Secrets fiasco. Unfortunately, Lucius had failed in his mission, the plan was thwarted once again by Harry Potter, and Voldemort's deep loathing for the boy heightened.

For the next year, the Dark Lord kept a low profile, gradually gaining his life back. Until the servant Wormtail had found him, and gave him the details of the Triwizard tournament and the news that he still had one of his devoted servants left, all of which were extracted from the knowledge of Bertha Jorkins. Then they set out to claim Harry Potter's life, for Voldemort's thirst for revenge had grown along with the time passed. This prophecy was put on hold as Voldemort's plans for the future.

With the help of his trusted servants, Voldemort gained his own body filled with the protection Lily Potter had given to her son, but Harry Potter had escaped once again. The Dark Lord was frustrated with his failures once again, so he decided to resume his work of this unfulfilled prophecy.

He went to the department of Mysteries to reclaim this hundred year-old prophecy made by Drusina and he covered his real motive well by turning Dumbledore's attention onto another prophecy that directly involved himself and the meddlesome Harry Potter.

His prophecy with Harry Potter was unimportant, although it would be good if he could destroy it as well. But Voldemort knew that it was no use, he knew that once prophecies were made, they could be destroyed, but some part of it would still be real and would exist till it became true, so it wouldn't make much of a difference. However, he needed to know more about the prophecy of the Star Crossed Lovers. He wanted to know how to manipulate that awesome power, that endless energy, the one force that is so powerful; it would be able to wipe out the whole world. He had to find the two lovers. So he began playing with the muggle-lover Dumbledore, planning a series of events which would have made his real intention undetectable. To his delight, he succeeded without a hitch.

Now, he was in the midst of his search for the other Star Crossed Lover. He had told all this to Draco because he needed to know what he was to do and with him being the son of a Death Eater, Voldemort was sure he could force his obedience.

After hearing this explanation, Draco had been terrified for days; he tried to escape and to warn some one, but all to no avail, and as time passed, he gave up on all hopes of escaping. These years of imprisonment with Voldemort were nothing but torture. The only thing that he could do was watch his other half through the enchanted mirror Voldemort made.

No one knew of their little hideout, so it was impossible for him to be rescued. If only he could send a warning to Dumbledore, things would be easier. He wasn't afraid of Voldemort's torture if he found out; he had grown used to it. Voldemort wouldn't kill him because he was too important to him. But even with all these in mind, there was still no way he could contact the headmaster of Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

He closed his eyes and tried to stop thinking. He had an unsettling feeling that very soon indeed, something great would happen. He just had no idea whether it would be in his favor. Great could mean something bad too. He reminded himself. But it was no use pondering about it, so he forced himself to get some rest.

But as this boy drifted off into an uneasy sleep, the other hero of our story awoke with a start.

Harry Potter awoke with a start.

He looked around. His clothes were strewn all over the floor. The pain in his scar was becoming difficult to ignore and he clutched at it, trying to force it into becoming better. He paused and listened intently. Loud snores were still issuing from the other two bedrooms, signally that the Dursleys were still asleep. He felt greatly relieved. The last thing Harry needed now was to have Aunt Petunia or Uncle Vernon waking up and coming to his room or something. He needed to think through what had just happened alone first. There were so many questions in his head that Harry felt sure that it was going to explode. The fact that Harry's scar was still hurting badly didn't help at all. He rubbed it gently, the lightning shaped imprint on his head burned, but he was all too used to this kind of pain. He had more distracting things to worry about, however.

All Harry knew was that Voldemort and Malfoy had been in the dream and that he was Voldemort in the dream. Again. This could only mean two things. It could either be that Voldemort was using him again, like he had not too long ago to trick Harry, or that this dream really happened, of which the first seemed most likely. But what he didn't understand was how Voldemort still managed to break into his mind after he had successfully mastered occlumency. It was possible that Voldemort had used dark magic to counter it of course, but then Dumbledore would have known, wouldn't he? If Dumbledore had known that there was a way Voldemort could break through and mess with Harry's mind again, he would have made sure that Harry had something else that would protect him, wouldn't he? This whole thing just didn't make sense.

Harry soon found himself asking the same questions again: Was the dream real? What did it mean? Unfortunately, Harry had no answers to them. He strongly felt that it wasn't just a dream though; he felt that it was real, that it happened, and that the Malfoy in the dream was telling the truth. Somehow, the dream just seemed too real, but even so, feelings can be deceptive. He reminded himself rather harshly that the dream involving Sirius and Voldemort had also seemed real, but it had led to Sirius' death.

Harry went through the dream in his head again. He was sure something about a prophecy had been mentioned, but was it the one with him and Voldemort? It couldn't be. He remembered that Voldemort had said that Malfoy had a part to play in the prophecy, and the prophecy about the fall of the dark Lord didn't include Malfoy in any way. He tried to remember more, but it was impossible. The more Harry tried to grasp at the images, the more they flowed out of his mind.

Harry wondered what he should do with the information in this dream. He knew that Hermione and Ron would want him to write and ask Dumbledore about it, but that would mean telling Dumbledore that his Occlumency skills were not strong enough and he didn't fancy the thought of having to be down in the cold dungeons practicing Occlumency with Snape again on pretext of having "remedial potions". Suddenly, telling Dumbledore didn't seem like such a good idea. He could always write to Hermione and Ron to tell them about the dream, but they'd be terrified and force him to tell Dumbledore. They would also worry themselves unduly about Harry and Harry didn't want that happening too.

Not wanting to think about this any more, he pushed all his thoughts into a far corner of his head and sank heavily back into his bed, he still had a few more hours before the Dursleys woke up and he wanted to try and get more sleep. Incidentally, he happened to glance upon his photograph taken with two of his best friends which was on his bedside table. Ron had his usual loopy grin plastered over his face and Hermione was holding a small stack of books. (Small for her standards) Harry began to think about how his friends would react if he told them that he had reason to suspect that Malfoy wasn't as bad as they thought without mentioning the dream. Ron would never think that there could even be a possibility that Malfoy wanted to be good. Hermione would just shrug it off and tell me that his well-being doesn't concern me. Both of them would probably think I'm crazy after that, to think that Malfoy had a good side even after so many years of verbal insults and occasionally physical contact. Harry thought to himself. Nevertheless, Ron would try to help, seeing that it bothered Harry so much, and Harry always appreciated that. Hermione would help too and if he wanted to find out if the dream really took place, Hermione would be the exact person to go to. Harry wouldn't be very surprised if Hermione had already read all of the books in the school library. The amount of time she spent in the library would surpass all the time he and Ron spent in the library added together. Yes, Hermione would help him, even though she would undoubtedly find it a total waste of time. Harry sighed uncontrollably. Maybe he should leave out the dream and just ask Hermione about the spirit splitting magic, something he just recalled from the dream. This would prevent his two best friends from gaping at the fact that Voldemort could have broken into Harry's mind again. But come to think of it, they were the only ones he could talk to about this dream now. Of course, if Sirius was still alive... Harry broke away. The thought was too painful too bear. He still hadn't quite forgotten how he had caused his godfather's death.

Holding back his tears, Harry closed his eyes and tried to force himself back to sleep, but he gave up several moments later, when he realized that it was no use. His head was just crammed too full of thoughts. It would do me good if I had a pensieve in a time like this, thought Harry bitterly. So he lay there staring at the ceiling, waiting for the sun to rise when it will be the last day of the summer holidays and he will finally get back to Hogwarts.