The Lost Prince

The story are going into four Kingdoms. Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and Slytherin. The King and Queen from Gryffindor wanted a son so badly and have tried in many years to get on. A stranger got past their Kingdom and give them a thing where they got a son. What Will happened? Read and find out.

Warning: Slash. MalexMale pairings. Smut chapters. Don't like Don't read. This is a story for people there is over 16 years old.

Beta Reader/Edit: Gurren-on-Kyoto.


7. The Hallucination From the poison.

A strangled pained groan broke from Harry’s lips as the hot stinging sensation coursed through his body, the entirety of it seemed to be on fire. Even through the foggy haze caused by the overwhelmingly agonizing pain, he caught a distant voice, angry and authoritative, probably to hide the panic in their voice.

“Somebody get me a towel, quick!”

Fast hurried footsteps were heard after the command. His eyes were heavily lidded and for his glasses were askew, he couldn’t make out just who was who. All his mind seemed to be focusing on about was how his body ached he felt he would throw up.

He felt a hand sliding to the back of his head and another one on his hip which guided him to turn over so he was lying face down. As the ground beneath him obscured his peripheral vision, darkness completely claimed him and Harry knew no more.


Harry wasn’t sure how far and long he had gone but when he came back to his senses, the first thing he noticed was how beautiful the scenery before him was. It was a garden, full of greeneries and red roses. The thing was that everything seemed to be clear, all was light and not a single shadow could be seen. Harry began a light walk. He saw two tall persons standing near a bush of roses and facing his way. One of them had a crown on his head, most probably a king judging his overall attire. He wore on a more elegant set of glasses, but they were a spectacle, nonetheless. The king had a black hair and Harry wondered vaguely how it was like he was looking at an older version of himself, though it seemed impossible for him to wear such a magnificent headdress.

Beside the bespectacled king was a beautiful woman with lovely vibrant reddish hue for a hair. Her eyes were bright green and piercing, yet so soft and full of emotions. Her and the king combined together were like angelic figures, or even so a god and a goddess.

Harry stepped closer and he caught the woman’s eyes which arched as she smiled as well as the king. The couple looked so young as well. When he had neared her, it looked as though she were a giant to him. How old were they here? Wondered Harry. The woman reached out to pick him up, circling her arms around Harry.

“My sweet little prince,” she spoke softly, staring at him with adoration.

Harry’s breathe was caught and he couldn’t seem to tear his gaze away from her. “Mum?” he asked.

She nodded her lovely head, smiling. The man, the bespectacled king, had come to stand closer beside his queen and was now smiling as well at Harry.

“Am I… dead?” he blurted out in question, looking from the woman holding her and the man standing beside them.

Harry was rewarded by the most endearing chuckle he had ever heard, if that makes sense. “No, Harry.” The man replied, bringing a hand up and briefly stroking Harry’s cheek in an affectionate gesture. “It is not your time to die. We wouldn’t allow that. You are so close and near to the place where you truly belong.

Harry felt a strong emotion welled up inside him and brought tears to form in his eyes. It was the first time ever he saw his true parents this close and spoke to them after all the long wait and years that had passed.

“Why did I… get stolen?” he asked in a small muffled voice.

“We made the wrong deal with the wrong person, my dear son.” It was his mother who responded.

Harry unknowingly leant into the touch, his mother’s hand now on his cheek and slowly stroking it. It felt nice and soothing.

Another innocent question came out his lips, tactless it may seem, it didn’t seem to bother any of persons he was questioning. “Are you both dead…?”

“I am, Harry.” said the queen. “But your father isn’t, though he is sick. There is a terrible thing happening in our kingdom. Someone had poisoned the king,” she said solemnly.

“Why don’t you stop it, mother?” Harry’s tone was not one of challenging but more of confused.

The queen said, “I do not know who the enemy might be and it is not easy to do so, Harry.” She once again lowered Harry to the ground. “It is time, my dear prince. Go back to your protector along with your new companions. No one outside our kingdom is to trust – the exceptions are your friends.” She gave an encouraging soft smile.

Harry felt himself panicking. “B-But mother,” he sounded a tad bit childish, “I don’t want to leave.”

“One day, Harry, you will be with us again. The two of us, your father and me. No matter what,” she said softly. “But it’s not yet that day.”

The queen and king made light steps backwards and Harry tried to reach them, “Mother… father… don’t go!” he whispered but a blinding flash of light blocked his vision from everything.

Harry gasped out inaudibly, stirring back to reality. He felt a comfortable cushion beneath him and a piece of cloth lain over his forehead and half his closed eyelids. He jerked his hand to test movements but his limbs protested with a pain; he was still weak. He had just then noticed the soft and warm hand that was caressing the side of his cheek and amidst the silence; a melodic humming could be heard. The person who was there with him seemed to have noticed he was awake but knew he couldn’t respond just yet. Nonetheless, Harry felt relaxed and calm with the soothing gestures. He tried uttering a sound but his throat parched but before he could even request for a drink, he felt himself drifting off once again.

The next time Harry came back to his senses, several hours must have passed. He remembered the melodic tune from before, thinking it to be Hermione. She was the most probable one to do it, nursing and calming a friend in need. Harry slid his eyes open, groaning softly. It was dim and only lit by the crackling fire from the fireplace. Then, he heard rustles and a familiar male voice, “Harry?”

Harry blinked a few times, clearing his blurry vision. “Here, Harry.” said his companion in a smooth voice, and felt the opening of a bottle being thrust gently near his lips. Still thirsty, Harry obligingly opened his mouth a fraction to let the cool liquid slid down his throat. As the contents emptied out, it was held away again from and a pair of glasses was jammed onto his nose slowly.

“Feeling better?” asked Tom, sitting by the edge of the bed and looking down at him.

Harry gave a meek nod of reassurance and rasped out a simple, “Tom,” in recognition.

“You almost gave us all a heart attack, Harry.” He said, shaking his head and smiling. He looked a little haggard, probably lacking of sleep and rest but his face brightened at the sight of Harry, once again awake. It gave Harry’s heart a soft thump.

“What happened?” asked Harry.

“You were too curious, that was what happened.” replied Tom, watching him cautiously.

Flashbacks crossed his mind and at the remembrance of his mistake, Harry’s face flamed from embarrassment and shame. “Sorry,” he mumbled.
Tom sighed and shook his head once reaching out and gently tipping Harry’s head back so he would look at him, holding his chin. “Harry, curiosity is not a sin. You were just curious but it ended wrong. There’s no need to feel ashamed about it. At the very least, we were all there to help you.”

Harry lay back in the bed heavily, nodding his head. Something else crossed his mind and he contemplated vaguely if he should tell Tom about it. What if he laughed at him? He cleared his throat, eyes downcasted.

“Harry…?” called Tom, stroking a thumb across Harry’s chin. “Is there something you want to tell me?”

Harry still refused to speak but at length, he began, “I… saw my mum and dad.” He raised his gaze up at Tom. “They spoke to me,” His voice was still gruff but had a happy tone in it now.

Some emotion flickered on Tom’s expression. “Your mum, Harry, is-”
“Dead, I know.” said Harry, cutting him off. “My dad’s ill, that’s what my mother said.” He looked over at the fireplace, eyes glazed over and looking deep in thought.

“What if it’s just an illusion – caused by your hallucinations?” Tom asked, snapping him out of his thoughts.

Harry looked slightly affronted. “I’m just telling what I saw.” He said, turning his head away from Tom’s direction.

“Harry,” said Tom, a little bit exasperated, “I believe you about what you saw. We can figure out what it was the moment we get there back in your kingdom, alright?” He suggested.

With only another nod from Harry as his assent, Tom mussed Harry’s already tousled hair. “Are you hungry?” he asked.

Harry noticed how Tom almost imperceptibly how close the other’s face to his was and that combined with the almost affectionate gestures from earlier, he was left feeling confounded. He shook his head to partly clear his thoughts and partly as a response to what Tom offered. “I don’t have the appetite. I’m just… tired, I want to rest again.” All those personal talks left him feeling emotionally stressed which triggered a heavy feeling in his head again. He wanted nothing but to sleep again though he had done nothing but that fore probably two days already. His eyes fluttered closed and he blew out a soft sigh.

“I think you should rest, then.” Tom said, distractedly, and Harry noticed how it was almost just breathed out into his ear. Tom was so unusually very close.

“I can choose myself what I want and need to do.” He said, just for something to say, reopening his eyes and catching Tom, the Slytherin prince, rolling his eyes at him.

“Sleep… for another hour or two,” said Tom, now had his palm placed flat on Harry’s chest. Harry flushed to the roots of his hair at the contact. He froze in his position, holding his breathe. “I-I think I…” he stammered, unable to form articulate decipherable words. Then he felt them, a pair of lips being pressed to his ear, eliciting a wonderful gasp from his own throat. “Tom-” He breathlessly called.

A hand stroked his cheek, Tom’s hand, the owner’s head near the crook of his neck. “What is it, Harry…?” Tom’s voice was unfamiliarly different, almost sounding… erotic. The thought sent a shudder down his body.

Harry’s head was already swimming only for those tiny tantalizing lips that were now lightly pressed, parted, on the side of his neck.
“Feeling embarrassed over what I’m doing?” Tom’s voice still sounded that way, asking and persisting.

“I don’t know what it’s… called, the feeling.” Harry answered, surprised at how he could even form words, his eyes still closed. He felt and heard Tom’s smirk, those lips forming that expression now on his jaw.

“It’s called pleasure, Harry…” whispered Tom in sotto voce, “It’s an exquisite feeling one gets so rarely. You aren’t protesting – you must like it?” The end came out as a confident question.

Tom was right, he didn’t dislike it. But everything felt strange at first to him. Tom’s face loomed over his before it lowered to plant a kiss on his forehead. He got it now, Harry did. Despite his innocence and naiveté concerning these things, he had the vague idea what Tom was proposing to him.

He opened his eyes, unable to look straight at Tom. “But we’re… you’re a boy, and I am, too.” He felt abashed at how ridiculous his thoughts were phrased when it came out his lips.

“So?” asked Tom, daringly. “It’s still the same thing, Harry.”

Harry drifted his gaze back at Tom and now had the time to assess their position. He knew how difficult Tom’s was but the other boy rarely shows it. He held himself gracefully and gentle-mannered it was hard to catch him out of stance.

“Tell me what you think, Harry. How and what you feel…” asked Tom, softly, watching him carefully.

Harry’s eyes became half-lidded, clouded with affection. “I feel like… someone else cares about me than before. I feel like… I’m needed and that you wanted more of me than I know.” He said softly.

Tom’s hand felt nice and they were caressing his face as though it was the most precious thing he had came contact with. “Go on,” urged Tom calmly.

“And despite all that… I feel like… no one really want me,” His eyes turned glassy, “Lucius always told me that and I know how undesirable I must look.”

Tom shifted Harry into a sitting position, holding him in a gentle embrace and rubbing his back with his palm in small soothing circles. “I’ll tell you this, Harry, and I want you to listen closely.” He said firmly. “You’re born as a very handsome fine young boy, Harry. Talented and kind-hearted. You deserve a lot more than you would ever know. Such a person like you isn’t easy to find.” He buried his fingers into Harry’s hair, tangling a strand around a finger and messing the black hair of the little Gryffindor prince. “You are a beautiful young man and I’m certain there would be dozens of not only ladies but as well gentlemen that would fall for you – including…” Tom trailed off, shaking his head with a smile and Harry chuckled quietly in between sniffles.

Tom stroked the back of his head and slowly pulled back so he could look at Harry. “I couldn’t tell it when the others are just here, Harry, but I…” Once more, he tapered off by the sound of someone knocking on the door. Whatever it was that Tom was about to say, which seemed so important by the look Tom had, Harry could only wish he would find out.

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