Harry Potter: The Chronicles of Black.

But Harry looked into his eyes, Harry sat next to him and kept eye contact and he didn't recoil away. Harry touched and held his withered, skeletal hands with their peeling, brittle nails with no sign of disgust. Harry spoke to him like a person, not like a cripple on his deathbed. For some reason that he couldn't actually fathom, Harry wanted to marry him, he wanted to have children with him and he couldn't understand it. He might have thought that Harry was blind, but he had stared deeply into those beautiful, magnificent eyes for long enough to know that that most definitely wasn't the case. Harry wasn't blind. Harry saw him and Harry still wanted to marry him.

He might have thought that Harry had been paid by someone, anyone, to marry him, but Harry had enough in the way of money in his own right, he had inherited the stagnant Black and Potter vaults, which would have made him considerably wealthy in interest alone, even if he didn't know that both vaults would have been piled high with gold to begin with.

He might have thought that Harry had been forced or blackmailed into being with him, but from what he had learnt of the fierce, feisty boy, that most definitely wouldn't have been the case. Rabastan doubted that the Dark Lord himself could blackmail or force the boy into anything and he liked that thought. He needed a strong partner, one who wouldn't let him call all the shots, one who wouldn't let him walk all over them, otherwise, his own marriage would turn into one of his games…one that he'd be unable to get away from and he didn't want that.

Harry was perfect. He was young, beautiful, fertile, and strong. Everything that Rabastan had always wanted, and needed, out of a partner. Everything else was just a bonus, his wealth, his power and social standing, his kindness…that smile that could infect a room and never failed to make his own thin, rough lips curl into some semblance of a smile. The tiny, soft hands that would hold his own without care, hands that would comfort him through another twitch. Those big, beautiful eyes crinkled around the edges when Harry smiled from ear to ear. That infectious laugh that had been tormenting him in his dreams.

He needed to see Harry again and soon. He hated that his young husband-to-be was so very far away from him at the moment and almost completely unprotected. He wanted Harry with him, by his side so that he could look after him. He wanted to talk to him face-to-face, but he was unable to and that frustrated him.

He tried to keep busy, the meticulous designing of Harry's engagement ring was taking up most of his time, but the ache to see Harry, to hold him, was growing bigger and deeper by the day and every letter he received resonated inside of him. He wanted Harry in his arms and in his bed. Yet he couldn't do the latter even if Harry was there with him. He was physically incapable at the moment because he was a ruin of a man and he wouldn't even be able to pick Harry up, let alone carry him to his bed and show him exactly how much he meant to him. It was likely a good thing that the wedding was so far away in the future because there was no way that he and Harry would be having a proper wedding night until he was much, much stronger and, at the moment, he struggled to stay standing for more than half an hour at a time…it would be many months, maybe even a year or more before he would even be able to unleash his passions on Harry, but fuck, he couldn't wait for that day to arrive, it really could not come soon enough, he thought, as his mind raced around the images of Harry and the tantalising fantasies he created and the whimsical wondering of what Harry might look like fully undressed and spread out on a bed. His bed. He grinned happily, it wouldn't be long now. These next few years were going to fly by.

Harry couldn't have asked for worse conditions for flying. The rain was sleeting down in a mush of part rain and part snow, making visibility near impossible. It was freezing cold and his entire team, including him, were shivering so hard they were actually vibrating, making movement difficult. It was wet, which compromised their grips and they were playing Slytherin, the dirty bastards.

Harry had already waterproofed his glasses so that he'd be able to actually see, but it was about all he could do as he led his team out onto the soaked, muddy pitch.

Urquhart was waiting for him with the rest of the Slytherins. They jeered as Harry led his young team out to face them, but Harry had done well with them and their small, determined faces stared up at the bigger, taller Slytherins in outright defiance.

"Captains, shake hands!" Madam Hooch demanded and Harry thrust his hand out for Urquhart to try and crush. The Slytherins were so predictable. It was why he wore steel boned gloves for Quidditch. That and it made clasping the snitch easier.

Harry watched with amusement as Urquhart tried and failed to crush his fingers. He took a moment to look around the stadium as they got into position and smiled as he spotted Lucius in the teachers' stand. He'd said that he would be coming to watch him and Draco play together for the first time.

Harry looked to his brother and smiled wider at the sodden blonde hair that was plastered all over his pale, pointy face. He was sure that he looked no better, but he didn't much care about how he looked, not as much as Draco did.

He straddled his broom and waited for Madam Hooch to blow her whistle after releasing the bludgers and the snitch before he kicked right up into the air like a popped cork. His broom was so fast that Harry was up and gone, looking for the snitch before the game had even really begun.

The wind drove the breath from his lungs and the rain stung his skin, but he was so happy up here on his Firebolt and playing the game that he loved.

"Are you sure you can actually see anything?"

Harry turned to laugh at Draco, whose hair was all over his face and his cheeks were stained a brilliant red from the wind. He was shivering on his broom.

"Of course. I can see fine. You, however, look like you're going to drop dead at any moment."

"Your young team look despondent."

Harry snorted. "They look like bedraggled puppies, you mean. That doesn't mean they're not determined to win. They're going to be fine, you'll see."

Draco huffed and sped off and Harry laughed at having rattled his brother's cage. He looked around for any hint of the snitch, but despite what he'd said to Draco, he could barely see three feet in front of him thanks to the wind and rain. He couldn't even hear the commentary over the gale-force wind gusting past his ears. He was soaked to the bone and he was sure that he was going to get a cold from this…or pneumonia.

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