Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1141764.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_J._K._Rowling
  Relationship:
      Draco_Malfoy/Harry_Potter, Hermione_Granger/Ron_Weasley
  Character:
      Draco_Malfoy, Harry_Potter, Hermione_Granger, Ron_Weasley
  Additional Tags:
      Crossdressing_Kink, Object_Insertion, First_Time, Bottom_Draco, Top_Harry
  Collections:
      The_Hex_Files, The_Quidditch_Pitch
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-01-18 Chapters: 13/13 Words: 65513
****** Whatever May Come ******
by charlotteschaos
Summary
     Post HBP (Horcrux hunt) Harry/Draco The trio discovers that Draco
     Malfoy is hidden away at Spinner's End and Harry recruits him to be a
     member of the team. *Complete* Winner of Forbidden Desires "Just As
     It Should Be" 2006 award.
***** Chapter 1 *****
Harry bit his lip in order to stifle his giggling when Hermione nudged his
shoulder and gave him a look. He noted, however, that Hermione herself appeared
to be having a hard time controlling the grin on her face. Ron was a lost
cause; rolling on the ground, face red with the force of restraining his want
to cackle out loud.
Looking back through the bushes, Harry had to cover his mouth to keep from
shrieking in mirth. When he'd found the information that Snape had lived in
Spinner's End he didn't have much hope that the man would be stupid enough to
just go home. In truth, Harry thought that this might be a futile lead, but as
he had few other options, he decided to give it a shot. What he never even
thought to expect was the odd sight of Draco Malfoy's bony legs ungracefully
sticking out of a poufy black skirt with an extravagant white tutu-like
petticoat.
Draco sat on the steps of the porch, arms crossed, wearing a rather petulant
expression as he glared towards the bushes. Earlier, none other than Peter
Pettigrew had shoved Draco out of the house and slammed the door. As far as the
trio knew, those were the only people in the house.
In retrospect, Harry decided that looking back at Hermione chiding Ron and
trying not to giggle at that had been the big mistake. But he'd thought he'd
heard a slap, but it turned out to be a loud smack from kissing. He wrinkled
his nose at how his sensible female friend was suddenly acting so very much
like a girl. She almost put Lavender to shame sometimes. It made him wistful
for Ginny. He was just beginning to have a rather pleasing daydream when he
felt a hand on his shoulder and was spun around to face Draco's angry, grey
eyes.
"What the... Scarhead?" He peered over Harry's shoulder at Hermione and Ron
snogging. "Ugh." At first Draco appeared angry, then shocked, then his face
fixed into his usual sneer.
Hermione and Ron looked up before Harry had formed a response. They jumped up
appearing guilty as if a parent or someone who actually mattered had just
interrupted. Then they pulled their wands, ready to strike if Draco was going
to start something.
Draco waved them off in spite of having his wand tucked into the elastic of his
fishnet stockings. Harry eyed the stockings and the belt. He was only brought
back to the present by Draco snapping his fingers to wake him out of it. He
looked among the three, calculating something. For a moment, Harry wondered if
he might yell for help. If there were more people inside... well, Harry had
high hopes for everyone's Apparition abilities.
After a long consideration, Draco asked, "Well? What's going on? What are you
lot doing here?" He was outnumbered, out drawn, and likely there was no one to
call for help. Only Draco Malfoy could stand in bushes dressed like a complete
ponce and somehow make everyone else feel stupid.
"We were looking for Snape," Harry piped up.
"He's not here," Draco snapped.
"So it's just you and Pettigrew?" asked Harry.
Draco leered at Harry, his gaze scanning him like a critical predator.
Suddenly, Harry was a little self-conscious about how unclean his clothing was
and the stubble that was starting to form on his chin that he hadn't taken care
of. "At the moment, yes."
"Why are you dressed like a maid, Malfoy?" Ron pocketed his wand and stepped
forward along with Hermione, who still looked a bit sheepish at being caught in
that particular position.
"I'm shocked you'd know what a maid looked like; you can't have had any
experience with having one. Although I suppose that it's possible your family
has spawned a few." Draco seemed pleased at Ron's lunge for him; Hermione and
Harry pulled him back before he got into hitting range
"Come on. Let's just go," Hermione whispered.
Harry was torn. He couldn't forget that wavering voice, the faltering wand. At
Dumbledore's funeral, he'd wondered what might happen to Draco, but he had to
admit that he hadn't thought about it much since then. Now that he was here and
witnessing the humiliation that Draco must be enduring, he wasn't sure he
wanted to leave him. He slowly peered over Draco's form, his eyes resting on
his blank forearm. He blinked. "Wait."
Hermione and Ron traded shocked looks. Draco's expression was neutral. "Just go
already if that's what you're going to do. Someone's bound to come out."
Noticing that Harry was looking at his forearm, he quickly turned it inwards.
It was no good. Harry grabbed his arm and yanked it out to show his friends
Draco's pristine arm. "What? But we saw you... you showed Borgin your arm...
and he... you had a... you're..." Hermione rambled. Ron just glared at the
narrow expanse of uninterrupted skin and shook his head in disbelief.
"I..." Draco started, but then the fact Harry was touching him seemed to
register and he snatched his arm back and folded them over his chest. After a
moment of deliberation, Draco flicked back his hair and gave a haughty sigh to
add to the drama of his report, it was clear he was rather proud of himself.
"It was one of those edible dark marks from your brothers' store. Borgin was
too ignorant to know the difference. I wasn't to be marked in case I was
caught."
For some reason, this made something in Harry's stomach flip excitedly, but he
tried to keep his expression grim. "Then why are you staying here when you're
treated like..." he indicated Draco's clothing.
Draco looked down at his dress as if it had just appeared on his body. "Well,
there is the little matter of my family who might be slaughtered if I don't
play nicely. Pettigrew is obviously just enjoying no longer being the whipping
boy."
Ron snorted and nudged at Harry. It was clear that he thought Draco deserved
this, and Harry agreed with him as much as he didn't. Maybe a couple of years
ago he would've relished this opportunity to enjoy a bit of schadenfreude. But
now that he'd seen so much and because he'd been watching Draco the previous
year, he just couldn't feel the glee that the others did. He heard Hermione
start to say something, but cut her off. "Malfoy, you're coming with us."
"Hah!" At first Harry thought it had come from Ron, but instead, Draco was
shaking his head and rolling his eyes. "As much as I'm sure you'd love to turn
your m age e trois into a full-blown orgy, I did mention that my mother was at
stake here? I think I'll pass."
The day had begun to dull into night and the blue hour lit up the white lacy
frills of Draco's ridiculous costume as if under black light. It somehow made
the scene both comical and dismal. Harry couldn't really admit to Draco that
he'd been there when Dumbledore was bargaining with him. That he knew that if
Draco could find a better deal for his family that he'd take it. "The Order can
protect your mother."
Again, Draco laughed. Harry caught something glimmering in Draco's eyes, an
extra wetness, but he lowered his head before Harry could really see it for
what it was. "You're not in a position to make such an offer, Potty. No one
is."
Harry opened his mouth to say something, but there weren't any words that made
sense. Draco had been there to see Dumbledore, the most powerful wizard, cut
down right before his eyes after making such an offer. Just why would Draco
believe him?
Just then, the cottage door opened and Pettigrew came barreling out. The bright
white of Draco's costume illuminated their hiding place and in an instant,
Pettigrew making a beeline for them. "Go," spat Draco.
The moment Harry laid eyes on Pettigrew; he felt his heart grow cold. The man
who had betrayed his parents, his friends, everything he believed in was
heading towards them. He'd sworn revenge. Before he'd had time to even think of
making a plan, his wand was out and pointed at the approaching man. He could've
Disapparated, or grabbed Ron and Hermione and run. But he was tired of running.
He'd left the Dursley's to make a stand and this was where it started.
"Stupefy!"
Pettigrew's eyes were fixed on Draco, so he was quite shocked to have been
hexed and stilled onto the ground. "Good one," Draco hissed. "Any plan to go
with that, or is this the usual Gryffindor bravery with no brains rigmarole?"
Hermione stepped forward and peered down at Pettigrew and then over her
shoulder to Harry, Ron and Draco. She was biting her bottom lip, considering
what to do now. Ron appeared nonplussed, but had his wand out as well. He
looked warily around and asked Draco, "You're sure it was just you and
Pettigrew?"
For a moment Draco looked as if he were going to say something scathing. A few
comments about how many people could be packed into a house being proven by the
Weasley clan percolated, but that was a decidedly impolitic thing to say to
someone with his wand out and all of the power, so he bit it back. "As far as I
know."
"Is the house being watched?" Ron continued.
"Evidently by you moro-- err... people. Beyond that, I have no idea." Observing
Ron's look at him, he shrugged. "Sorry, they didn't trust me enough to mark me,
do you think they would tell me if they were watching me here?"
"What I don't understand is why you two were here at all," Hermione broke in,
after pulling her wand and mobilizing Pettigrew's body. She lifted it from the
ground behind her like a shocked-looking bloated man-balloon over her shoulder.
"Wouldn't this be the first place the Ministry would look for Snape? Or
Pettigrew?"
"They've been here and gone. We hid. They didn't look particularly hard. Pretty
much just walked in, stole a few rare potions ingredients and then left." Draco
looked around one last time, as if he could see someone peering out at them. No
one was there.
"Do you think that there are people in the Ministry working for Voldemort?"
asked Harry as he nodded to Hermione. She started to lead the way into Snape's
home, keeping Pettigrew aloft as they went.
Draco followed, fidgeting with the hem of his dress to hide his flinch at the
invocation of Voldemort's name. "Do you think there aren't?" Realizing that he
was still wearing a dress, he rolled his eyes at himself and pulled his wand.
"Finite." He was back in his fashionable, now slightly rumpled robes.
Ron smirked as Draco caught his glance at him. "Nice legs."
"Shove off, pervert."
Ron stifled another giggle behind his hand at Draco's sneer. "Seriously, Harry,
what's the plan here?" Though he was asking Harry, Ron looked at Hermione.
"We should definitely take Pettigrew into the Ministry so he can be sent off to
Azkaban." Harry peered around the decrepit little cottage and finally flopped
down on one of the dusty chairs like he owned the place.
"And Malfoy too?" Ron looked hopeful and sat in another chair, watching Draco
switch nervous glances to each of them.
"Well, we can turn him in but he technically hasn't done anything that
serious."
At this, Malfoy was aghast. "What? I cast an Unforgivable! I had Rosemerta at
my will for months! And I almost killed Bell! I snuck Death Eaters into
Hogwarts castle on my own!" Draco snapped before realizing that was terribly
unwise.
"Yes, yes, Malfoy, you're very scary." Harry waved him off dismissively. He had
other things on his mind; coddling Draco's ego was the last thing he really
cared about. There were real dangers out there.
Draco looked to the other two for cries of outrage and shock, but they also
appeared bored with this revelation. He huffed and kicked the corner of the
couch before flopping down on it.
"Do you want to go to Azkaban, Malfoy?" Harry leaned forward in his chair.
"At least I know people there. Besides, I can't help but think that the reason
he set us out here. We probably weren't supposed to hide. I'd've been safer in
Azkaban." Draco rubbed his knuckles into his eyes. Harry realized suddenly how
tired Draco looked and how tired he was.
"Why did you hide when the Aurors came, then?" Hermione asked. She set
Pettigrew down in front of a fire like an awkward, chubby bear rug and sat on
the arm of the chair that Ron had settled into.
"Instinct? Or maybe because Pettigrew was hiding. I thought Gryffindors were
supposed to be brave. I guess that wears off when it's no longer useful." He
looked over at where Pettigrew was set and sniffed in such a way that almost
seemed like a laugh. "So you lot came here looking for Snape figuring he
wouldn't really be here? That was really the plan?"
"We thought there might be leads to where he went," Harry answered. He'd pulled
off his glasses and rubbed his eyes.
"Didn't bring your girlfriend?" Draco turned on his side on the couch.
"She's not my girlfriend anymore." He pushed his glasses back on and eyed
Draco's expression. He seemed genuinely surprised. "People around me tend to
get hurt."
Draco looked over at Ron and Hermione, who were looking at one another with
expressions of disapproval. It would seem that Harry's choice in this matter
was fairly controversial. Turning his attention to Harry, he said, "Then I'm
going to have to insist you leave."
It took Harry a second to catch on that Draco was mostly kidding. "I meant
people I care about."
"That hurts my feelings, Potter. I thought we had something special with you
following me around all last year. I guess I was just another of your flings.
Perhaps the Weaslette and I should form a support group." In spite of Ron's
glare in his direction, Draco smirked at Harry.
That was an almost flirty tone, and Harry wasn't really sure how to take it. He
assumed that Draco was just being a prat, but he was unsettled by it just the
same. It had made that flipping twinge in his stomach happen again. He blushed
and looked away.
Draco's eyes widened at Harry's reaction and suddenly he found the fireplace
very interesting. He sniffed again and looked down at Pettigrew. "I don't think
this will be a problem for tonight, but beyond that, if you lot are planning to
stay, then we'll need a plan."
Harry shifted in his seat. "I don't think we were planning on staying so much
as taking you with us."
"What?" Ron sat up, nearly unseating Hermione, who appeared uncertain.
Draco turned back from the fire and let out a tired sigh. "We've been over
this. I'm not leaving. The Dark Lord could still get to my mum. I don't have
the option of 'breaking up' with her."
"He's right," said Hermione. "It would put his mother and risk."
"I don't need you on my side," Draco snapped.
Ron looked murderous, but Hermione just shook her head in disapproval.
"Malfoy, you're stuck. You need our help, at least try to act civilized." Harry
sat back in his chair, strange tingling feelings about Draco obliterated. But
he still couldn't just leave him here. Hermione's expression told him that she
didn't want to leave him either. "Look, we can give this place a thorough look
over for the next couple of days and maybe in that time we'll figure something
out to help your mum."
"Nothing here will tell you where Snape is..." Draco sniffed the air, cursed
and then fled to the kitchen.
--
The roast was a bit dry at the edges, but overall it was better than anyone
would've expected for Draco to cook. "This isn't too bad, Malfoy." Harry gave
Draco an affable grin.
"It's overcooked, the rosemary burned. Anyway, it's not exactly Arithmancy, is
it? Even Muggles can cook." He rolled his eyes and flicked his hair back.
"Maybe the practice of making potions helped?" Hermione asked. In spite of how
he'd been to her, having your family held hostage couldn't be much fun. She
took Ron's hand under the table.
Ron still wasn't pleased with this, but he had to admit that maybe going
through Snape's things for a couple of days might help get some leads.
Draco's eyes hardened at the sound of her voice, but after weighing his
options, he decided it wasn't really worth it. "I'm sure Snape would be pleased
to know that the application of his knowledge made me quite the homemaker." Ron
snickered and Draco shot him a look and then shrugged and smirked at the
notion.
Hermione frowned at Draco, but at least he hadn't been rude to her. Noticing
that everyone appeared to be done with their food, she pulled her wand and
began reciting a series of spells that set the chipped cups and plates from the
table, into the sink, and then washed and to their proper places in the
cupboards. That action was rewarded with a nod of thanks from Draco.
Dinner over, they moved back to the sitting room, and as if they had been
assigned the seats they were previously in, Harry and Ron moved to their arm
chairs and Draco took his spot on the couch. Hermione settled on the arm of the
chair again and Ron wrapped his arm around her. They all sat staring at the
fire until Ron broke the silence by asking, "You don't think there's anything
here that would lead us to Snape?"
"Snape's with the Dark Lord. Even if you find them, not sure what you plan to
do about it. You're outmatched even if I were to help you. But I do know
this... " Draco looked around at the trio as if he were going to say something
terribly important, but his visage clouded over with doubt and he continued
with less fervor. "Snape's promised to drop by from time to time to check on
me. I'm not sure what good it would do you to see him, but if you need to talk
to him, this would be the place to stay. But just talking. No halfwit attempts
at revenge." After looking sharply at Harry, he rolled onto his back on the
threadbare couch and let his hair spill over the side of it. It reflected
golden in the fire and candlelight.
Harry watched him, deep in thought about what he might say or do when Snape
stopped by. He was moderately insulted by being called a halfwit, but this was
Draco, after all. If he felt motivated for revenge when he saw Snape, Draco
wasn't going to stop him. But those were thoughts for another time. Right now
he wondered what it was Draco might've said had he been more comfortable. He
put it out of his mind for now. "At the very least, we'll stay here tonight and
search this place by the light of day. We can make a plan then. What does
Pettigrew do around here?"
Draco sighed. "Not much. Sometimes he comes up with petty things he wants me to
do. Eats loads of cheese. Talks about Weasley naked."
"WHAT?" shrieked Ron.
Draco snickered.
"Fuck you, Malfoy."
Even Hermione grinned a little at that one. "I think what Harry was getting at
is how important it is for him to be visible or around. Or if we can leave him
like that."
Draco appeared to have ignored her, but answered, "Well, I could use the
Imperious curse on him. Keep him in here in case there's a fire call. They do
check in from time to time to see if we're still here and to leave us food. You
lot would have to stay away from here and I'd... well... I might have to wear
that little costume so things don't appear out of sorts. At least when I'm
around this room."
Harry wasn't sure if that was an altogether bad thing. That thought jolted him.
He couldn't think of a rational reason why Draco in a maid's uniform was a
particularly good thing. Well other than that spot where the stockings met the
belt, the way that it stretched over Draco's thin thighs, and.... Raising his
brows, Harry tried to control his blush and just nodded. "That sounds like a
plan." His voice cracked since it came out about an octave higher than usual.
Everyone stared at him.
Hermione cut eyes from Harry back to Draco. "It's been a long day. Maybe we
should get some rest. Where are the bedrooms?"
"Ah, well, there's only two, Pettigrew's is the master. You lot can share it.
I'll just stay in mine and Pettigrew looks comfortable where he is. I'd rather
cast the Imperious in the morning, deal with it when I'm fresh," drawled Draco.
He rolled off of the couch and smoothed his robes out as if it mattered. He
avoided looking at Harry as he led them out of the book-lined room down a short
hall where there were two bedrooms, a master and a smaller one that appeared to
have been Snape's growing up. It was likewise lined with books and dusty phials
with a few sizes of cauldrons lined up in front of a lone, narrow window.
Draco turned in surprise that everyone had followed him to this room. He
pointed back to the other room. "That's the master. The bed is bigger as is the
room." The trio continued to stare at him if for no other reason than to keep
form looking at each other at the awkward arrangement of all sleeping in the
same bed. "What?"
"Well, it's just that... maybe we should let Hermione have the room to
herself?" Harry tried.
Giving them all a withering look, Draco shook his head. "Haven't you lot been
playing 'camp out' for a while now? I'd think you'd have had this arranged on
your end. Besides, doesn't Weasley want to sleep next to his girlfriend?"
Ron and Hermione blushed brightly and exchanged glances. They both eyed at
Harry and then gave Draco and imploring look.
Draco shot back a pained expression that left Harry looking mystified. "What?"
asked Harry.
Rubbing his face with his hand, Draco looked up, appearing like he was going to
tell them all off and then swept into Snape's old room and slammed the door.
The trio sighed, each for their own reason. Then they all turned around to
trudge to the master bedroom.
--
The master bedroom did have a vast bed, which Hermione transfigured to be even
larger, stretching the span of the cramped room. The two wardrobes were dusty
and creaked in protest when opened. Doxies fluttered out of the first one and
Hermione slammed it shut, coughing from the dust they'd stirred up. The room
also featured its own bathroom, which Harry decided to take advantage of first
since Ron and Hermione didn't seem to mind.
It felt nice to wash away the grime. In spite of what Draco thought, Harry had
spent the first month of his summer vacation at the Dursley's to complete the
blood bind that protected him. Then he spent the next month at the Burrow
helping to prepare for Bill and Fleur's wedding. It was a last, perfect day for
all of them, and it had ended all too soon. The next morning, Harry had packed
his things intending to leave alone, but Ron and Hermione were right there with
him. They'd spent a few days searching Grimmauld Place for the missing locket
with no luck. After happening upon correspondence between Snape and Regulus in
one of the old closets, they found that Snape lived on Spinner's End and had
gotten lucky with finding Draco outside.
As he washed his hair, using his wand to conjure soap, he pondered how awkward
the summer had been with Ginny. They were broken up, but he'd intended to come
back to her after all of this was over. But her behavior rankled him. While he
understood that she was probably just playing the game that had worked for her
before, when she'd started owling Seamus and being very vocal about his
attentions, it left Harry feeling sour. It wasn't a game; he was seriously
worried for Ginny's life. Not to mention that he had no guarantee that he would
survive this. He wasn't playing cat and mouse. It struck him as immature that
she'd believe he was.
Finished with his shower, Harry toweled off, pulled on his pyjama pants and a
t-shirt and opened the door. He'd distantly heard the sound of squeaking
springs when he opened the door. He was too deep in thought to really register
what it meant. There was a squeal, Ron's white, freckled arse exposed by the
candlelight of the bathroom for a tick and then the sound of covers and quick
movement. "Harry!" Hermione gasped.
"Oh. I umm... err... there's a book I wanted..." he stuttered out as he fled
the room. Starting towards the sitting room, he remembered the possibility of a
fire call. Dismissing the idea that if someone did pop in, Pettigrew stupefied
on the floor would provide a problem, he trudged to Draco's room. He knocked
and heard a very loud, put out sigh.
"Come in."
Harry let himself in and found Draco in a huge bed squeezed to one side. His
hair was wet, obviously having the same idea about cleaning before bed as Harry
had. Draco had the sheets pulled up over his chest, but his shoulders were
bare. Harry wondered if he were naked under there. "I um..."
Draco sighed again and rolled his eyes. "I heard the bedsprings. Just keep to
your side of the bed. Good night." With that, Draco rolled on his side with his
back to Harry and the lights went out.
Left to navigate the pitch-black and unfamiliar room, Harry stood there for a
moment to let his eyes adjust. It didn't help much, so mostly he had to feel
his way, stubbing his toe a couple of times before he felt the mattress against
his knee. He fancied he could hear Draco snickering. "I don't hear the springs
anymore, maybe I should just go..."
"I silenced the room. It was making me nauseous."
Harry nodded, not that Draco could see that. He pulled his glasses off and
stuck them on the nightstand, his wand next to them. "Well, thanks for this...
and for... silencing the room."
"You were gone a while. I thought maybe you'd joined them."
Was that a note of jealousy? Harry frowned at himself. What would he care? "I
had a shower." He slipped under the covers and rolled onto his back. The
mattress was old and lumpy, but it was better than the floor.
Draco groaned. "They're dirty and doing that? Foul."
"I guess they haven't had much time alone lately."
"Cockblocking, Potter?"
"Not on purpose. I guess I didn't know they'd... gotten that far."
"I wish I didn't know." Draco rolled onto his back and sighed again. "Know what
day it is?"
Harry tried to do the mental math to add up to the day. He vaguely remembered
celebrating his birthday before he left and Molly chastising him for not having
a proper party. But he was ready to get on with his destiny. In theory, he'd
have more birthdays. If not, well, at least it would be over. "I've no clue."
"September first. We'd be spending our first night in the dorms. Those
comfortable beds, the perfect sheets..." Draco sounded dreamy.
"Oh. It seems like just yesterday was my birthday." Yesterday or a year ago it
could've been his birthday. Time seemed to be slippery lately.
"Yesterday? Happy birthday. I didn't have time to shop. You're terribly hard to
buy for, I hope you'll accept Pettigrew in the spirit in which he was
intended."
Harry grinned. "That's very thoughtful of you, Draco. You really didn't have
to. Especially since it just seems like yesterday was my birthday. It was a
month ago, really."
"Even still, I insist. Take Pettigrew. He's all yours." Draco smirked back and
pulled his arm up over his face.
This was utterly ridiculous, but Harry was amused. "Are you so sure he's yours
to give?"
"I guess he will be tomorrow," answered Draco grimly.
"Why didn't you use the Imperious on him sooner?" Harry rolled onto his side,
he could only see the outline of Draco, but he was glad to have a reference of
where he was. At least he could stop imagining him coming at him with his wand
now.
"I don't know if he can shake it off or not. I figure with the three of you
there, if it doesn't work, I'll have some back up. Plus, if the Dark Lord does
catch us, then I'll just claim you put me under Imperious and I'll be covered."
"Clever, but he's a Legilimens."
Draco turned on his side to face Harry. "I'm an Occlumens."
"Oh. Well. Then I guess you have it all covered." Harry wasn't sure exactly how
he felt about being a cog in the wheel of Draco's machinations. He further
wondered how it was that Draco came up with such an intricate plan in the time
it took him to shower. Or maybe he formulated it during dinner. Slytherins were
obviously more adept at plotting. Harry decided he would've just run away from
here and taken off with his mother. But then, Draco never had Harry's luck when
it came to Voldemort, so perhaps he made the right choice.
There was a drawn out pause before Draco spoke again. "Don't you miss school?"
Harry blew a stray piece of hair from his face. "I try not to think about it."
"We would've had the feast instead of a desiccated roast."
"You're taking the wrong approach to not thinking about it."
"I had my birthday here," Draco groused. "Snape came for a little while and
brought my mum. Then they left me with Pettigrew again."
There was something disturbingly hollow in Draco's voice and it clutched at
Harry's heart and rattled him a little. "Does Pettigrew..."
Draco shot Harry a warning look.
Harry decided to try it from a different angle. "Does he make you wear that
maid's uniform?"
"Oh no, Potter, I just enjoy feeling pretty. I'd've worn it to bed if I'd known
I was having company." He rolled his eyes at Harry's gaping surprise. "Yes, of
course he makes me wear it."
"Why... is he... does he... like boys?" Harry tried.
"I'd have to say that if he liked boys he might prefer me to dress as one. But
I don't think it's about either of those things, to be honest. Snape evidently
treated him like a servant when he was stuck here last summer and now that he
has someone beneath him that Snape is fond of; he's taking it all out on me."
"Oh... so... it's not about ..."
Draco cut him off. "I just wish I could go back to school. It was lame and I
hated everyone, but it was still better than this dump."
"Right. But Malfoy, did someone hurt you? Was it Snape?"
"Goodnight, Potter."
Harry heard Draco turning over again. Deciding that he wasn't quite done with
the conversation, he reached out and found Draco's shoulder and gave it a
squeeze. He was shocked to hear a sniffle. "Draco..."
"It's allergies, Potter. Don't get too excited. And call me Malfoy."
"Shut up, Malfoy," Harry insisted as he grabbed him by the shoulder and turned
him around. Maybe it was overkill to hold him, but he had the idea that Draco
was crying, and it bothered him. Or maybe he just wanted to be held. He decided
it didn't matter because already he had protectively wrapped his arms around
Draco who pressed his face against Harry's neck, but remained otherwise
motionless. Harry felt the resurgence of urge to kill both Snape and Pettigrew.
"Did they touch you?"
"No... no, it's not anything like that. No one's touching me but you. I just...
I just want to go home." Draco sniffed again, but he didn't sob.
Harry slid his hands up and down his back, surprised at how easy this was to
do, how comfortable he was doing it. But he also felt burdened. He needed to
end this war; it was the only way that everyone could go home. He kissed the
top of Draco's head and opened his mouth to say something when he felt warm,
soft lips against his own. Automatically, he parted his lips and leaned in to
stroke at Draco's tongue to coax it out. It didn't occur to him how odd this
was until Draco was pushing back from him like a cat that had gotten too much
affection and had enough. Harry let go of him.
Draco wiggled back to his side of the bed and said nothing.
Lying there in the bed, Harry's mind whirled. What had just happened? Of
course, he realized what had physically happened. He'd cuddled Draco and for
whatever reason Draco had kissed him. Not that he'd had any inkling before
tonight that Draco might... kiss a boy. The word gay was too extreme for Harry
to even think about right now. He pulled the covers up only to feel them
snatched away as Draco rolled over.
Grabbing them back, Harry gave a sharp tug that spun Draco back round and next
to him. The look of defiance on Draco's face was almost frightening. Harry let
go of the blankets and Draco took them and rolled back over. Edging a little
closer, Harry took as much of the blanket as he could. He realized he could
easily overpower Draco and take it, but at the moment he was a little too
freaked out by what had happened. Draco Malfoy had kissed him, which was weird
enough on its own, but it was slowly dawning on him that he'd kissed back. Not
only had he kissed him back, but he'd been disappointed when it ended as well.
That idea made his stomach tighten and his head feel light. Maybe he'd been
without a girlfriend for too long. Only, he was pretty sure that a lack of
girls only made you gay on boats or in prison. Or maybe he was just surprised?
Although that kiss had gone on a bit long and with too much participation for
him to completely write it off. Maybe Draco had some answers. He rolled onto
his side. "Draco?"
The forced snore was his only response. Harry reached out and jostled Draco's
blanket-covered shoulder. "Draco."
Draco swatted his hand away. "Leave me alone," he whined.
"I just... I wanted to know why... "
"I don't know why."
Harry leaned forward. "You don't know why you kissed me?"
Draco pulled the blankets over his head. "Leave me alone!"
"I'm sorry. It's just... that you..."
"Go back in the other room."
Looking at the door and then the wall that he could see the outlined shapes of
bottles and books on, Harry feared what Ron and Hermione might be doing that he
couldn't even hear. "No."
The covers lurched and the bed wiggled in protest until Draco yanked them off
of his head, his white hair left in a static coronus around his head. "What did
you say?"
Harry glared back at Draco. Static hair boy didn't intimidate him. "I said no.
No, I'm not leaving this bed."
"Maybe I'll leave." Draco tilted his head up pompously.
"Good."
Draco sat up and tried what must've been in his mind, his most intimidating
sneer. "This is my bed!"
It was almost cute. "You said I could stay."
"I changed my mind!"
Harry shrugged. "You know, considering that I'm helping you with your little
situation here, I think that you at least owe me your bed."
"I didn't have a choice!" Draco sounded desperate; his eyes darted around the
room as if looking for some idea to gain control of this conversation back.
"Which would make you my prisoner, then. So technically, this is my bed and I'm
just letting you sleep in it." Harry beamed at Draco's silence. "Good then, now
that that's settled," he continued as he pulled at the blankets to cover
himself.
Draco crumpled against the bed and punched his pillow a couple of times to form
it to a preferred position. Or out of frustration. He turned his back on Harry
again and remained still.
Though Harry felt victorious, it took him a few minutes to realize that Draco
still hadn't answered his question. But by this time he was terribly tired
himself and decided to let it pass till the next day.
***** Chapter 2 *****
Harry awoke late and wasn't surprised to find that Draco wasn't there. The room
was humid and lightly scented with a citrus musk. It evidently hadn't been long
since Draco had gotten up and showered. Harry decided to follow in his
footsteps and took a quick shower. He dressed in jeans and a t-shirt and headed
to see what the others were up to.

He was surprised to find Hermione and Draco alone in the kitchen. Draco sat on
the counter in a chocolate brown robe listening to Hermione's prattling while
she prodded at the fry up. For her part, Hermione seemed rather chirpy that
someone was listening to what looked like another of her tiresome lectures.
Harry was surprised with Draco's patience until he saw a gleeful look pass over
the aristocratic face. He sat back looking smug, waiting for her to pause.
"Actually..." was all Harry heard, but he said something that caused Hermione
to deflate; appearing more frustrated than insulted. 

"They've been at it like that for 20 minutes," Ron assured Harry. "I think they
both have Hogwarts, A History memorized. Nerds." 

Harry grinned, shaking his head. "At least she's not boring us with it."

Peering back into the kitchen, Ron huffed. "I think he's flirting or something.
If he thinks I'm going to let him try and steal my girlfriend..."

"I don't think that's what he's doing," Harry interjected a bit too fast. Ron
gave him a quizzical look. "Err... just that, you know, the blood purity
thing." He looked at Draco's haughty face; he was taking great joy in
Hermione's stammering. Then she said something back and Draco paled. It was her
turn to be self-righteous. Draco sneered and hopped off of the counter. 

Leaving the kitchen, Draco addressed them as he brushed past. "Gentlemen." 

"No tutu?" Ron teased.

Draco flashed an impish grin. "Liked that, did you?" Ron rolled his eyes. Harry
blushed. Clearing his throat at Harry's reaction, Draco headed for the sitting
room and forced open one of the large, dusty windows that faced the front. 

Harry continued to watch Draco as Ron headed to the kitchen and started to
crowd plates onto the undersized kitchen table. When Harry looked back, Draco
was petting and feeding his eagle owl that had just arrived. On his lap was a
velvet pouch and a basket that Harry recognized as the one Draco's mother used
to send him treats. Draco glanced over the note, his scowl growing ever more
irritated as he read. He pulled a scroll from his pocket and was affixing it to
the owl's leg when Harry rushed up. "What is that?"

Draco paused to glare at Harry. "It is what is known in the Wizarding world as
a letter. Those of us who are literate often use them to communicate with
friends and loved ones who aren't close enough to chat with. Perhaps if you're
here a while, I'll teach you more about the art of correspondence."

Taking the scroll from Draco, Harry cracked the seal, ignoring the snark. "What
does it say?" he asked, giving Draco a chance to explain anything he might read
before he read it. 

"Oh, I suppose I'll be teaching you to read as well? Very well then, it's a
letter to my mother, it says nothing about you. If I don't send her a letter
back then she'll know that something's going on. I wrote it this morning so I
wouldn't be in a rush and muck things up. Now, is this moment of invading my
privacy over or will you be reading it aloud to your friends?" Draco leaned
against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest, looking quite surly.

Harry skimmed the letter and it appeared to be nothing but Draco's whinging
about wanting to go home. Draco also appeared to be concerned that Peter was
going to want more exotic food and he asked for more money and treats to
supplement his budget. "More money?"

"Yes, I was going to bribe Granger to let me out. I've been caught," Draco
responded, holding his hands up in a faux plea for mercy. "Or... I could be
trying to accommodate the fact that there's going to be three more people here
and we need additional money for food. Of course, even if you don't stay long,
a few extra galleons might help, so either way..." Draco swung his hand out and
shrugged. "So there you go. My top-secret note that I worked hard to keep
hidden has been confiscated. The dirty truths revealed. Oh whatever shall I --"

"You've made your point." Harry pulled his wand and tapped it to the cracked
seal and handed the scroll back to Malfoy. 

"Breakfast," Hermione called. She and Ron looked shamefaced at the slightly
burned breakfast. Their lips were bright red again and their clothing a bit
mussed. 

Draco grunted. The flap of wings indicated the owl's leaving and they headed to
the table for the singed food.

--

After the meal, Hermione set about casting charms to clear away and clean the
dishes while spouting off how this was not women's work and hinting that she
wasn't the only one who knew cleaning charms. No one really paid much
attention, especially not Draco, who was already up and heading towards the
sitting room. "Are you listening to me?" she nagged.

"No," Harry admitted. Ron began to snicker but it cut off abruptly. The loss of
laughter caught Harry's attention and he looked at them. Hermione's expression
was angry and Ron appeared cowed. 

"I'll check on how those dishes are going, then." With a hasty retreat, Ron was
off towards the kitchen, Hermione trailing behind him.

"I'll be there in a minute," Harry called after them as he headed to the
sitting room.

"No hurry!" Hermione called back. An involuntary shudder passed through Harry's
body and he quickened his steps towards the sitting room. Even though Draco was
in there, and he was still confused about the weird kiss, it was better than
standing around awkwardly watching your best friends grope one another.

Upon entering the room, Harry observed that the morning sun lit the gilded
spines of the innumerable books lined up on the shelves, some crammed in
sideways along the top. Pettigrew still sat stiffly on the floor in front of
the dead fire, Draco stood beside him, his wand drawn and eyes closed in
concentration. He looked up when Harry entered. "Come to see some magic?"

"I thought you said you didn't do this before because you had no one to back
you up," Harry pointed out, observing Draco was alone. "Weren't you afraid he'd
wake up and kill you?" Harry pulled his wand and held it at the ready. 

Taking in Harry's stance, Draco nodded. "It was a concern, but then I had to
ask myself, 'death or nagging?'"

Grinning, Harry responded, "I stand behind your choice."

Draco's brow perked at the comment and he appeared ready to say something, but
then closed his mouth and shook it off. "I'm sure you'd enjoy that," he
murmured. Before Harry was able to ask what that meant, Draco's wand swished
with a theatrical flourish and he intoned, "Ennervate," followed with,
"Imperio." The movements were crisp and graceful. Harry wondered if perhaps
Draco wasn't performing them with gratuitous drama. Or perhaps he had just
never taken much notice of how Draco moved when casting spells since they were
often directed at him. 

Pettigrew appeared livid for a split second before his face shaded neutral and
slack. He smiled at Harry. "James's son, it's so nice to see you!" 

"Stop that." His father's name on Pettigrew's lips angered Harry. "I don't want
him to talk to me. At all. Ever."

"I promise I'll turn myself in after this is all over. I'll confess everything
I did." Pettigrew said, his voice betraying nervousness.

"Malfoy." Harry glared at Draco who turned away and pocketed his wand.
Pettigrew sat on the divan. 

Grabbing a book from the shelf, Draco handed it to him to read. "Do you want me
to look for... your clues in here or do you want to do that yourself?"

Still feeling adrenaline pumping through his veins from the few words from
Pettigrew, Harry wasn't ready for the change of tone from Draco. "We'll do it
ourselves. You don't know what we're looking for," Harry spat.

"You could tell me." Draco leaned against one of the bookshelves, observing
Harry. 

"You'd like that, wouldn't you? Shouldn't you be in your uniform when you're in
here?" Harry jammed his wand into his pocket and met Draco's eyes. The defeated
look in Draco's eyes made Harry regret snapping. As he thought about what Draco
had Pettigrew say, it occurred to him that it wasn't that inflammatory. The
second remark Draco forced Pettigrew to say sounded repentant. His tone
softened, "It's not... it would just be hard to explain what we're looking
for."

"I wasn't planning on wearing the... thing... all day. I was going to
transfigure this when a fire call started." He slid his hand over the sleeve of
his robe, fingering the fine fabric. 

"You'll have to be wicked fast, you know. Otherwise..." 

Draco dropped his hand from the gold embroidery. "I wasn't always in the room
when the calls started, so I just thought I'd..." He glanced at Harry and then
realization dawned on his face. "You don't want me to help you. You want me to
stay in here."

"It's just that..."

"You don't trust me. I get it." The expression on his face showed that he
clearly didn't get it, or at least didn't like it. Who would like sitting
around in a tutu? 

Harry leaned against the armchair. "Maybe you can just stay in your room?"

"Your room?" Draco asked with a churlish tone. "There aren't that many rooms to
examine, aren't you going to want to try that one first? It was Snape's room,
after all." 

"Fair enough, then you can stay in the kitchen while we start there." 

"And here I thought you liked me in my little dress, Potty."

Harry cleared his throat. "Don't be weird."

"I'm not the one who goes red each time it's mentioned. You were the one
staring at my legs." Draco crossed his arms over his chest and grinned in
defiance.

"You were the one who kissed me." Harry shot back.

Draco paled and swallowed. "You didn't stop it."

"Why did you--"

"Why did you hug me?"

Harry shook his head and appealed to the ceiling for answers. "I don't know. I
really... don't know. I thought you were upset. I thought you wanted me to."

Draco threw his hands up in the air, "Then you see my point." 

"Just... don't do it again," Harry mumbled after a few quiet moments.

Strutting past him to go to the kitchen, Draco grumbled, "Trust me, I won't."

--

"So what happened when you stayed the night with him?" Ron asked, dumping over
a phial of what appeared to be desiccated milky white fish eyes. The glass
broke and a few of the eyes detangled from the clot of veins and roots to roll
on the floor and stare up at him. 

Harry made a face at Ron who pulled his wand to repair it. "Nothing happened."

"Then explain to me why we should trust him. For all we know, Voldemort was
banking on us showing up here and you feeling sorry for Malfoy." Hermione
systematically pulled books from the shelf, flipped through them and set them
back in place. 

"I was just saying that the search might go faster with an extra pair eyes."
Harry shrugged and continued to try to force enchantments out of the wardrobe.
Apart from a secret compartment that held boyhood treasures of a small tin car,
some old Muggle change and gobstones, it was ordinary. He had to admit that he
did feel sorry for Draco, but that had little to do with Voldemort or Draco for
that matter. 

Hermione cast a charm so she could float higher to examine the books that were
in neat rows to the ceiling. "I don't know, Harry. The thing that's been
bothering me since yesterday is that he seemed awfully calm about seeing us
here. It was almost as if he expected to be found."

Nodding, Ron continued shaking the phials, looking for lockets or anything that
looked out of place. He followed up his visual search with a muttered
incantation to force the ingredients to reveal whatever magic it had. "And he
hasn't otherwise been... well, he's been a prat, but I thought he'd
be attacking us."

Harry shut the doors on the wardrobe and started to examine a desk. "But you
saw how he was dressed, you see what's going on here. I told you about him
being in the Astronomy Tower that night. He couldn't kill Dumbledore and
Dumbledore clearly wanted me to see that. And as I said before, Malfoy was
going to give up. I think his behavior is consistent with that. I don't think
he wants to do this. I don't think he's a killer."

"So long as he's not the one holding the axe personally, Harry. He would've let
Katie die." Ron flopped on the floor, wrapping his arms over his head. "I need
a break."

Harry agreed and sat on the floor as well. It did bother him that Draco was
reckless with that necklace, but he rationalized that he could've killed Draco
in the bathroom. The necklace was wrapped up; Katie's touching it was an
accident. The plan was ill formed. As Dumbledore pointed out, it didn't seem
like Draco was trying. "I just don't think he's having us on. I think he wants
to help. But I guess it won't hurt anything to give it a couple of days before
letting him in on it."

Joining the two on the floor, Hermione laid back, stacking her bushy hair as a
cushion for her head. "I want to believe in him, too. He's well-read, plus he
knows how dark minds work, he really would be a big help."

Secretly, Harry believed Hermione just wanted Malfoy along because he listened
to her nattering, but she brought up other good points. "Yes, a Slytherin
perspective really would help aid the search. Maybe that's what Dumbledore
intended?"

Ron snorted. "Bollocks. He trusted Snape and see what trusting Slytherins got
him."

"I never trusted Snape," Harry interjected.

"Right, but... you see what I mean?" Ron sat up enough to catch Harry's eye.

Harry got the point; he just didn't like it. "We'll give it a couple of days."

--

Dinner was a mostly silent affair. The trio had yet to come up with a
definitive answer to their dilemma on whether to tell Draco what they were
looking for or not, so they couldn't discuss what all they'd looked through or
why. There were good points for and against inviting Draco to search with them.
The conversation seemed to keep drifting back to the question, as the wait and
see attitude wasn't really a resolution. After an hour or so of debate, no
clear verdict was ever reached. Now that they were poking at a roasted chicken,
no one had much to say either out of frustration, tiredness, and hunger. 

"This is good, Malfoy," Harry tried. Draco speared a potato.

"You like roasting things." Ron pointed out.

Draco shrugged, but felt pressured to say something since everyone was watching
at him. "It's easy to do. Throw some spices on, shove it in the oven. Read a
bit and then it's done."

"How do you get more food?" Hermione asked, trying to keep the conversation
going.

Sighing, Draco looked at the ceiling and then down at his food again. "I give
the Muggle kids down the street a few quid to go into town for it. Mum sends
money. They come over every few days. I told them I have a sick uncle."

She nodded. Ron leaned forward and leered, "Do you answer the door in the
dress?"

"No."

"How do you dress when you answer the door?" Harry asked. He'd finished the
chicken and the plate was a wasteland of discarded bones. 

Draco eyed the plate and then sneered at Harry. "You're awfully concerned about
what I wear, Potter."

Harry blushed and looked down at his plate. He covered it with the napkin like
murder victim. "I err... was just trying to... make conversation."

Those grey eyes bore into Harry's blushing face; he looked as if he were about
to say something devastatingly appalling when they heard the sound of the
hearth flaring and Snape's baritone, "Draco!"

Huffing, Draco threw his napkin on the table and pulled his wand. Heading
towards the sitting room; his clothing transfigured into the bustling black
crinoline maid's uniform. From behind, Harry could see that the fishnet
stockings had long, black lines down the back that ended in a Cuban heel. He
was particularly fascinated by the way that Draco's pale skin shone through the
black webbing and the way the skirt swayed as Draco strutted away. Once in the
room, Draco slammed the door shut. 

The trio looked at one another and then at once everyone was on their feet and
crowded against the door. "Extendable ears?" asked Harry hopefully.

"Never without, mate." Ron passed them around as Harry sank to his knees to
peek through the keyhole.

"You know, this could be private..." said Hermione, looking doubtful as she
pressed the listening end to her ear. 

"All the more reason to listen in." Ron settled on his knees next to Harry,
squinting to peer through the keyhole.

Harry stayed quiet, he was pretty sure this wasn't the nice thing to do, but
Draco wasn't stupid. He'd have to know they were spying on him. Why wouldn't
they? He'd read Draco's letter to his mum. Through the hole, he saw Peter
sitting in an armchair by the fire, but Draco was right in front of it on his
knees. His ankles were crossed under his bum and his back was straight as he
listened to Snape droning on about his responsibilities. 

Snape kept glaring at Pettigrew, remarking about how fellow wizards should
treat one another. Harry couldn't tell what the expression on Pettigrew's face
was, but he remarked that Snape should have thought about that before turning
him into his personal servant. It sounded like a rote discussion that Draco
must've heard a thousand times. Snape went on to talk about how crucial a time
it was and that everyone needed to stay where they were. Finally he asked
Pettigrew to leave while he spoke alone with the boy. 

The trio scooted back from the door just before it swung open. Pettigrew strode
in, closed the door again and took a seat at the kitchen table. Harry looked at
him for a moment. The man appeared natural, if not a bit taciturn. He had to
admire the skill that Draco had over controlling other people like that.
Reminding himself that it was an evil and horrible thing to do, he crawled back
in front of the door and resettled himself to look through the keyhole. 

What he saw made his jaw drop and his blood boil. Draco was on his hands and
knees, arse up exposing the white lace of his frilly pettipants, and the black
garters stretched over his pale flesh, denting it, which was distracting
enough. But what shocked Harry was Draco leaning into the fire and Snape's
long, sallow green-tinted hand reaching from the fire to slide through the
pale, shiny tresses. Draco leaned into the touches like an attention-starved
kitten. Harry felt his jaw stiffen and he reached for the doorknob. Having
dropped his extendable ear at this outrage, he didn't hear what was being
said. 

"That conversation is over. What is going on in there?" hissed Harry. Hermione
knocked Harry's hand away from the knob as Ron tried to yank Harry back. He
looked at Harry with an irritated shock that was tinged with worry. 

Ron nodded to Hermione to keep listening if he had to remove Harry from the
doorway. Harry pressed his eye to the keyhole again and Draco was back on his
knees and glaring at the door. He turned back to the fire trying to look casual
as Snape likewise looked towards the door. Draco shook his head and Harry
grabbed the end of the dropped ear to listen in again. Ron was still staring at
Harry, clocking his movements in case there was another outburst. He looked
ready to pull Harry away at the first sign of strangeness. 

"...probably those kids I pay to get food. They've started to become obnoxious
about doing it, as if we're going to need more supplies just because they show
up. Muggles."

"You may need to modify their memories," drawled Snape.

Draco sighed. "I did it once, I'm not sure how often doing that is a good idea.
It's not exactly my forte. I don't want to dull their minds any more than being
born to Muggles already has."

Snape perked a brow and smirked at Draco. It was rare to see Snape doing
anything other than scowling. Harry found it disturbing. "How very considerate
of you. Any word from the trio?"

"Alas, they seem to be biding their time." Harry had to hand it to Draco; he
could act. He didn't even look towards the door or sound particularly
disturbed. 

"I left plenty of clues to get them here. I expected better of Granger.
Brightest witch of her age, indeed." 

The trio looked at one another. That explained why Draco seemed to be expecting
them. Did Draco know they were listening to him now? He had to know they would.
Maybe he had little choice. "Perhaps they're... busy." Harry couldn't see
Draco's expression, but given Snape's response, it had to be wicked.

"Don't be crude, Draco." Snape paused, peering around the room again, looking a
bit paranoid. "And Pettigrew hasn't found the present I left for them?"

At this, Draco's facade faltered and he looked down. "Err. No."

"When they show, be sure they get it. I cannot stress this to you enough."
Snape eyed Draco who nodded to him. "Yes, sir." Snape reached out from the fire
again and he cupped the side of Draco's face to force him to look up at him.
"You will see to it that they get it." 

Harry restrained his urge to rush in again. The touch was familiar, and so
intimate that it made his skin crawl. When Snape's long, knotted thumb brushed
over the pink flushed cheek, Harry tore his eyes away feeling quite unsettled.
Ron was staring at him a wary, perplexed look. 

"Of course, sir." 

Harry closed his eyes. Whatever it was that Draco was supposed to give them, he
hadn't. He didn't sound pleased to have to do it. In Harry's mind, it said
everything. Draco didn't give whatever it was to them because he didn't want
to, because he wasn't against them. He would've looked victorious, except that
the vision of Snape touching Draco was causing an agonizing twisting in his
chest. He handed the extendable ear back to Ron. 

Hermione and Ron traded looks and then Hermione got up to move to Harry's side.
Ron stared doggedly through the keyhole. "Harry... I don't understand what's
wrong. Are you angry he kept something from us?"

"No... No. Maybe?" He rubbed at his chest as if that would quell the feeling.
Then he raked his hand through his hair and exhaled. "I guess I just wonder why
he didn't give it to us. Maybe it's bad?"

She nodded. "Well, it's coming from Snape. We'll let Malfoy explain. I just
wonder why you're so..." her voice broke off as Ron hopped away from the door,
pocketing the ears. They all took their seats back at the table, doing a poor
job of looking as if they'd never left.

Draco threw open the door, looking irritated with the loud rustling of his
petticoats. He glanced at Pettigrew and the man stood and headed back into the
drawing room. "I should probably let him eat, but I think the porker could use
a little diet."

"What did Snape want us to have, Malfoy?" Ron barked.

Draco exhaled in a vain attempt to cover his nervousness. Perhaps he wasn't as
good an actor close up. Harry wondered how much acting Draco did with Snape and
just how far his acting skills went. "It's... well, it's from Snape. I don't
know what it does. I've been trying to read up on it, but I can't find anything
out about it other than what it obviously is."

"So you were trying to protect us?" asked Hermione. Harry registered her glance
at him before she spoke, but he was too busy glowering at Draco wondering
exactly what he got up to with Snape. 

Draco looked like he was trying to come up with another way to couch that.
"Something like that, I suppose. Enemy of my enemy is my friend?"

"Is Snape your enemy?" growled Harry, as he stood up and crossed to Draco.

Eyes glittering with spiteful derision, Draco replied, "Not really. Did
he look like my enemy?" 

"No, you looked quite cozy. Very comfortable with one another." Harry scowled
at him. He didn't even know why he was angry with that, but he did know that
Draco's mocking and amused tone irked him. 

"Oh, we are." Draco crossed his arms and pulled back from Harry's encroachment
on his personal space.

"Good for you. What did he want me to have?" Harry held his hand out as if
Draco could just produce it. 

"This is stupid even for you, Potter. You have no idea what it could be or what
it could do. This is something that Snape wants you to have. You remember
Snape, don't you? The man who killed your mentor? The Death Eater?" 

"I know who he is. He wants me to have something. I'd like to see what it is,
Malfoy." Harry crowded Draco again, backing him against the doorframe. 

"Harry... as much as I hate to agree with Malfoy..."

"Shut up, Ron," Harry growled, not taking his eyes from Draco's. "Give it to
me."

Narrowing his eyes at Harry, Draco's resolve crumbled. "Fine. If you want it, I
can't be held responsible for what happens to you." Harry noticed that Draco's
hands were shaking and he felt a little guilty for putting him into this
position. He was about to take it all back when Draco grabbed his skirt and
pulled up the hem. The petticoat crinkled in a low whisper as Draco revealed
the long, gold necklace that ended with a locket with the Slytherin "s" on it
that had been magically affixed to the garment. Draco used his wand to unbind
the enchantment from the chain and shakily handed it to Harry. "I... I don't
know what it is... I couldn't open it."

Harry was stunned into silence as he watched the necklace dropping into his
hand. A Horcrux. Snape wanted him to have a Horcrux. Confusion shook him as he
gazed at the glittering treasure. Was Snape to be trusted then? Had Dumbledore
been right about him? He looked up into Draco's eyes. Draco was still staring
at the locket with trepidation as if he might snatch it back out of fear of
what it might do to Harry. "It's... all right, Malfoy. It's... what we were
looking for."

Draco blinked at him, his brows furrowed as he shook his head. Ron and Hermione
ran up to flank Harry as they stared at the first Horcrux found on their
journey. "Are you sure it's real?" Ron asked.

Nodding, Harry whispered, "It's real. I can... feel it. It's the one I saw in
the Pensieve."

"How do we destroy it?" Hermione asked, reaching out to prod it.

"I destroyed the book with the basilisk fang..." Harry answered, unsure if
that's how you destroyed all Horcruxes. Not that he had one on him. "I don't
suppose anyone has one of those lying about?"

"Snape's..." Draco looked scattered and was still a few thoughts behind
everyone. The revelation of Snape's loyalties tripped him up. 

"I don't know what side he's on," Harry snapped. "Does that disappoint you?
Your boyfriend might be a good guy? That must really shatter your illusions."

"He's... not..." Draco waved his hand at Harry. "Whatever. My part in this is
done, obviously. Maybe he's your boyfriend, because he told me nothing about
this." 

As much as Harry wanted to remember that look of trepidation on Draco's face
when he handed over the locket, all that he could envision now was Snape's
thumb brushing over Draco's cheek. "Oh, I don't want him. He's all yours,
Malfoy."

"What is going on?" Hermione whispered to Harry after Draco had shot down the
hall into his room and slammed the door. "You spent all day singing his praises
and when he actually proves himself everything you've been claiming all day..."
she gestured towards the door where he'd gone. 

"He knows Malfoy's disappointed that we didn't explode from touching that
thing," Ron assured Hermione. 

"He didn't look disappointed," she pointed out. "He looked more worried that it
was going to hurt us."

Harry just couldn't explain that it had nothing to do with this great boon
they'd just received. He couldn't even explain to himself why Snape touching
Draco with such familiarity had keyed him up this much. He savagely hoped that
Draco was sobbing, and then hated himself for that thought. "I don't know what
to think of all of that. It's just lucky for us that Snape came along. Now we
have another piece to destroy and we're that much closer to ending this."

"And now we can leave," said Ron.

"We're not leaving Malfoy here to this!" Hermione gasped. "Besides, if Snape
really is helping us, this is the perfect way for him to get information to
us."

"Except that Malfoy didn't tell him that we were here." Ron eyed Hermione. "Do
you like him or something?"

Hermione looked incredulous. "Who? Malfoy?" 

"Yes. A couple of conversations and you're his best friend!"

"Don't be ridiculous, Ron. I just don't think he's the root of all evil. I
think he needs help, and I think Snape is trying to help us. It makes sense to
stay here. Logical sense. If you weren't so blinded by jealousy, you'd see
that." 

"I'm not jealous!" Harry shouted. The other two looked at Harry in shock. Ron
curled an arm around Hermione and pulled her closer. Harry would've laughed
that they were afraid of him had the circumstances were less tense. "Never
mind. Hermione's right. We should stay."

"Good," Hermione agreed. Her eyes scanned over Harry carefully, but ultimately
dropped away. 

"I'm tired," said Harry, stretching and forcing out a yawn. He could tell she
was curious as to what his outbursts meant, but as he couldn't answer that for
himself, he didn't want to try and explain it. Best to play the 'tired' card.
"I'll sleep in here, I guess." The couch looked horrible but it was either
sleeping with Ron and Hermione or with Draco. Neither option was tolerable at
the moment. 

"You sure?" Hermione asked. Ron jabbed her lightly in the ribs. 

Harry smirked and rolled his eyes. "I don't want another... episode... like
last night. That was..."

"Awkward," Hermione finished. 

"Well then, goodnight mate," Ron said as he pulled Hermione with him to the
bedroom. 

"I'll think on how to destroy the Horcrux tonight," she said as Ron pulled her
into the room.

"Sure you will," Harry mumbled. He looked over row upon row of books in the
sitting room. Several of them looked interesting, but none of the titles jumped
out at him as being one that would explain to him how to destroy a piece of a
soul. Of course, he had a hard time concentrating on the titles because each
time the fire crackled; he looked down at the mantle and pictured Snape
touching Draco again. He was just about to give up when he heard someone enter
the room. He turned to see Malfoy in his pyjamas holding a plain, silver
dagger. 

"You should've used your wand," said Harry as he turned to confront Draco.

"Yes, because if I wanted you dead, I wouldn't have slit your throat in the
night, I'd have waited till you were wide awake and hanging about in the
sitting room pretending to be literate." He held the hilt towards Harry. "It's
enchanted to cut through anything. It's the only thing I have that I could
think that would destroy your... whore crutch."

Harry perked a brow at the slight mispronunciation. "Horcrux." He explained to
Draco what the word meant and why they were looking for them. He was placing a
lot of trust in Draco now, but if Draco truly were working for Voldemort, he
wouldn't be trying to help him destroy pieces of his soul. He certainly
wouldn't be trying to protect them from Snape, no matter how misguided the
attempt was. 

"I'm glad you told me." Draco paused and looked around the room. "This couch
really is... pretty bad. And as you said... that's your room anyway... if
you're really still angry with me..." he trailed off falling just short of
offering to sleep on the couch himself. Harry grinned. Somehow Draco being
Draco was more reassuring than anything else right now. He might've looked for
a pod if Draco had been magnanimous. "Just stay to your side of the bed."

Nodding solemnly, Harry nudged Draco's arm. "He was touching you." 

"Jealous, Potter?" Draco led the way down the hall and crawled into the far end
of the bed.

"You wish, Malfoy." Harry slipped into the bathroom and changed into his
pyjamas. By the time he came back out, Draco was doing a fair enough impression
of someone sleeping that he chose not to bother him. He laid staring up into
the dark, images of a dagger, a locket and Snape touching Draco flashing
through his mind. And there was that kiss. He really wanted to know about that
kiss. Rolling over on his side, he stared at the pieces of glinting metal on
the nightstand until he fell asleep. 
***** Chapter 3 *****
Harry was the first to awaken the next morning. He rolled over to see Draco
squeezed all the way to the edge of the bed, turned away from him and curled
into a ball. It was almost insulting how extremely he was lying to get away
from him even in sleep. Then he saw a small flash of light and as he sat up he
saw Draco's hand slipping away from his wand. "What was that? What did you do?"
"Huh? Wha?" Draco did a bad job of acting as if he'd just awoken, although he
did appear rather groggy. He couldn't have been awake long.
"Don't 'Huh? Wha?' me, Malfoy. I know you weren't sleep spelling. What did you
do?" Grabbing Draco's shoulder, Harry rolled him over onto his back. The ivory
sleep shirt had ridden up on his belly exposing a small patch of skin with a
platinum trail of hair that led down into the drawstring pyjama pants. Harry
was mesmerized by how it glinted in the rays of the morning sun.
Draco sat up and yanked his shirt down. "What wand are you really interested in
knowing about, Potter?" He leered at Harry, slapping his hand down on the
sheets. The movement seemed a little odd, but Harry was too flustered to
comment.
"I'm just waking up! I don't have my glasses on!" The protests just made Draco
appear more bemused than he already did. Harry ignored the cocksure grin.
"Anyway... what were you doing?" He reached back for his glasses and pushed
them onto his face.
"I was grabbing for my wand, waking up with you is creepy. I was scared," Draco
said in a mocking tone as he rolled out of bed.
"Snape isn't around to hold you so you went for your wand?" Harry clapped his
hand over his mouth in regret, it sounded quite jealous as it came out of his
mouth.
"Something like that." Draco rolled his eyes. "I'm heading for the shower first
since you seem to have some denial to straighten out."
"Wait! I'm not done with you! You can't go until I say so!"
Pausing in front of the door to the bathroom, Draco crossed his arms and leaned
against the doorframe. "And why not?"
"You're still considered hostile. You're a prisoner!" Harry bounded out of bed
and headed towards Draco. He wanted to know what was going on with Draco and
the wand, or so he told himself. There were loads of other answers he wanted
out of him; the wand issue seemed a convenient start.
"A prisoner? After I-- after the-- I'm a prisoner? Are you going to chain me to
the bed next?" They both stared at each other, both refusing to admit how dirty
that sounded. Perhaps even appealing.
Harry cleared his throat. "I don't think it will come to that. I just want to
know what you were doing with your wand."
"Y'know, Potter... I think I've earned a bit of trust with you. I gave you that
Horcrux, even though I was wrongly protecting you from it. Then I gave you the
means to destroy it. I think I've earned the right to handle my wand in bed."
Harry pressed his lips together to try not to laugh. "You know what I mean!"
Draco's shoulders stiffened and he did his best not to acknowledge how
embarrassed he was by that.
"Fine, then. Just tell me this, then. Why were you snuggling up to Snape like
an alley cat looking for attention?"
Draco perked a brow. "Alley cats are feral. They don't want attention."
"You know what I mean!" Harry stepped closer as Draco gave him a curious look.
"To distract him from the herd of elephants who thought they were sneaky
sidling up to the door for a listen."
"I didn't... I wasn't making noise then," Harry insisted, remembering his
little outburst didn't come until after he'd seen Draco's pettipants. He
blushed at the memory of that perfect, pert arse covered in fluffy ruffles and
looked away.
Opening his mouth for a moment while his eyes cast over Harry's face, Draco
looked just about to say something and then changed his mind when Harry looked
away. " I made up another story about the kids; to cover the second...
noisesome distraction. You lot need to sort out how to move more quietly. At
the time I didn't want him to know you all were here, but I suppose he should
be informed."
"Are you going to firecall him?"
Draco shook his head. "It doesn't work that way. I can't contact him. It will
have to wait until he checks in on us again. Even then..."
Harry took a few steps back and sat down. He'd let Draco shower first. "You
don't trust him."
"Of course I trust him. He killed that senile old man for me." Draco's glare
dared Harry to remark on that.
"He wasn't senile. Don't ever talk about Dumbledore like that again." Harry
kept eye contact with Draco until the other boy nodded. Then he continued. "I
doubt Snape was doing it for you." Looking down, Harry realized didn't know
that for a fact. However, he couldn't imagine Snape doing something for someone
else with nothing to gain. Unless what he hoped to gain.... "It's a little
weird that he'd... want to touch you like that, isn't it?"
Draco tilted his head and appeared amused. "Well, I don't know how weird it is,
really. It's not terribly uncommon in the upper echelons of British or
Wizarding society for an older man to take a younger male lover."
"What? You mean... like... gay?" Harry's eyes widened. All he could do was gape
at Draco's insinuation.
"Given how you've been... " Draco cleared his throat and looked down at his
shuffling feet. "Err... I wouldn't think that concept would be so alien to
you."
Finding that statement incomprehensible, Harry turned his back on Draco.
Somehow Draco's coyness made the whole thing even less bearable. "Um... right
then. Well... err... I think we'll be destroying the locket after breakfast if
you umm... want to see." He winced. Want to see? It might be interesting, Harry
couldn't quite recall what happened the first time very clearly, it was lost to
a haze of being poisoned. When he didn't hear a response, he turned around to
see Draco gone and the door shut. The water started and Harry was left with an
unidentifiable feeling in his stomach about Draco's nudity just beyond that
door. Rather than confront or embrace what that feeling was, Harry fled the
room for breakfast.
--
Like many boys his age, Harry practiced a morning ritual of showering and
wanking. This practice had been stunted by having to live at the Burrow where
anyone could walk into the bathroom at any time and often did. While there was
little in this world worse than living with the Dursleys, at least they left
him alone so he could get in a good toss before he had to cook breakfast.
Needless to say, between a month of stunted masturbatory practices and thinking
of the way Draco's arse had undulated under those ruffles, he was feeling quite
tense at breakfast.
"Figures Malfoy would hog the bathroom. Probably in there primping." Ron nodded
sagely and nudged at Harry's arm as he took a bite out of the fried bread.
Hermione rolled her eyes at the wink-wink, nudge-nudge.
Harry paled at the thought that perhaps if he did take a longer shower than
usual at some point that Ron and Hermione might discuss what was taking him so
long in the shower. "Some people just take long showers. There's nothing wrong
with that!" Harry protested.
Ron snorted. "You keep thinking that, mate. I don't blame you. Who would want
to think of that ferrety git doing something like that anyway?"
Catching Hermione's moony look, Harry felt a spark of irritation that she was
likely imagining it. "Doesn't look like Hermione minds thinking about that."
Hermione immediately looked shocked at Harry as Ron glared at her, having
caught a mere trace of her blissful expression. "What?"
"Were you thinking about him?" Ron's face brightened to red. His jaw set as her
cheeks turned rosy. "Well-- I-- that's..." Hermione sputtered.
Instantly Harry regretted his brashness. Ron had his back up and Hermione was
already muttering things about hormones and it only being natural and other,
less rational things about how Won-Won didn't have room to criticise. It was
looking to be World War III when Harry banged his fist on the table to get
their attention. "Look, we have a Horcrux and I thought today would be a good
day to destroy it. But if you lot want to continue discussing Malfoy in the
shower, I'll do it myself." With that, he pushed himself up from the table,
leaving his half eaten breakfast on the table as he headed to his room.
The gold locket glinted innocuously in the morning light next to the elfin
blade he was going to use to pry it open and destroy that bit of Voldemort's
soul. He would've liked to have had a shower, but the tap was still running.
The door wasn't quite shut tightly and the bright, citrus fragrance poured into
the room. Deciding to knock on the door to see if Draco wanted to watch him
destroy the Horcrux, Harry was stunned when the door noiselessly opened.
Draco's forehead was pressed against his forearm, which lay across the dingy
grey tile. The opaque green curtain was back just far enough for Harry to see
Draco's fist as it moved in and out of view. His glasses started to fog, but he
fancied he caught glimpses of Draco's purpled prick poking through the pale
fingers. Draco's gasps only barely sounded over the sound of the water. The
side of his face was blotchy and pink, his hair slicked back on his head with
only a few dripping tendrils out of order. His mouth opened wider and his gasps
were more pronounced. Draco raised his head, the crown was drenched by the
streams for them shower as his hand slowed. He blinked a few times and then his
head lolled to the side. It took Harry a moment to realize that Malfoy's grey
eyes were fixed on him. He thought he caught a faint, open-mouthed grin before
the screech of the shower curtain being pulled closed obstructed his view.
--
"It's probably better he doesn't come out here, Harry," Hermione whispered,
looking over her shoulder at Ron pacing in front of the house. The sun dappled
his red hair as he kept glancing at the door to Snape's house and then back to
Harry. "What did he say to you that has you so rattled?"
Whilst Harry realized that Hermione was just trying to be a good friend and
that she rightly believed that there was little to nothing Draco could say that
would rattle him this badly, he really didn't want to talk about it. "He... he
didn't say anything. Look, it's not important. Tell Ron to come back here," he
said as he tried arranging the locket on the blackened tree stump as if the
display would make it any easier to pry open.
"Do you know how to do it? How did you destroy the journal?" she asked as she
waved her arm at Ron to come back when she caught his eye.
"I just... I don't know. I just... stabbed it. I didn't know I was doing
anything particularly clever. So I guess that's all I have to do. This is
supposed to cut through anything so..." Harry held the hilt in his fist and
prepared to stab at it when he heard an odd rhythmic inorganic susurration.
"No one invited you," Harry heard Ron say. He whirled around to see Malfoy, his
hair still slightly damp from his long shower dressed in his prim maid's
uniform. The bright white of the pinafore was almost blinding. Using his hand
to shield his eyes from the sun as if it would help, he noted that most of
Draco's face was cast in shadow thanks to a tree branch. All Harry could see
was the trademark sneer.
"I thought Potty was trying to," Draco cleared his throat pointedly, which
caused Harry to blush and look away, "extend an invitation earlier."
Harry couldn't even turn around to look again. "Why are you wearing that?"
Hearing Malfoy's approach, he tried not to look at the black, pointy-toed shoes
with the straps that tied up the ankles. Yes, his thin ankles, lovingly
crisscrossed in black mesh that led up to his-- "Well, it's your Horcrux, your
big day. I just thought I'd wear your favourite outfit. Was there something
else you'd rather I wear, Potter?" Harry thought he could hear the leer in his
voice.
"I just thought you might want to watch this, no special attire was required. I
don't care what you wear, Malfoy. I don't have a favourite outfit of yours. You
could run about naked for all I care." Even as the words left his mouth, he
knew they were poorly chosen. He dearly wished Ron or Hermione might say
something, but they seemed to have also been shocked into silence.
Peripherally, he could see Draco's knees as he moved closer, and then all at
once, Draco was on his knees next to him. The frills of the petticoat stuck out
from under the black skirt and Draco daintily arranged the white apron,
smoothing it out. Though Harry had expected mocking and derision, Draco instead
took a demure tone. "Well then, I suppose that you should get on with the
destruction. It's what I came out here to see."
"Right." Harry held the locket in his hand and decided to try and pry it open
first, rather than stabbing it. It seemed to make sense in a way. Pushing the
blade between the gold pieces, it made an irritating scraping sound that made
him shiver. He noticed that Ron and Hermione had also sat around the trunk,
everyone in a tentative circle, braced to hop up and run should the need arise.
Draco leaned forward at first to peer down at what Harry was doing, but the
scraping must've set Draco on edge as well as he'd pulled the leg closest to
Harry up, ready to flee. His stiletto heel dug into the dirt. His knee and
foreleg were soiled, and for some reason, Harry found himself unable to
concentrate on anything other than the fact that Draco's stocking leg was half
covered in dirt, from being on his knees. Draco was dirty on his knees in a
maid's uniform, with his thin thigh stretched out, and he was unaware that his
poufy skirt had ridden up and Harry again found himself gazing at the glinting
clasp of metal holding the black thigh elastic. Harry's lips parted as he
thought about what it would be like to slide his tongue along the flared skin
above the elastic. Would it be soft? Draco's leg appeared to be hairless. He
could just.... Draco's thigh vanished under the rustling black fabric and Harry
was forced to look up into the glinting silver eyes. "Are you going to destroy
it, or not?"
All Harry could do was blink slowly and stare at Draco. He was shocked to find
that Draco was flushing profusely and seemed to be having a hard time coming up
with words, or so that's what he interpreted the soundless mouthing to be
about. "I... right. I am." Harry turned back to the tree stump and looked at
the golden locket still in his hand. He set it down carefully, "s" side up, as
if that might make a difference. Though his instincts tended to be right more
than not. Again he wrapped his fingers around the blade, steadying it with his
other hand. He plunged the knife in.
Harry had expected the wind to pick up or sudden storm clouds to loom in. What
he didn't expect was the small trickle of blood that leaked out between the
sandwiched metal. The blade had struck through, a bit low for center, but
whatever had happened, it seemed to have worked. Letting go of the blade, he
sat back and just stared at it. Everyone remained silent, waiting for something
else to happen.
Hermione reached for the blade. Securing the locket down with her fingers, she
pulled the blade out with her other hand. The locket sprang open. Inside were a
flutter of pictures of people Harry recognised from the Pensieve. Tom Riddle,
Sr., Merope, Marvolo and Morfin's faces all fluttered out along with a blurry
picture of Tom Riddle himself. They were all faded and pink-tinted as if
printed in blood instead of sepia. None of them moved. Harry laid them out for
the others, explaining who was who and why they were significant. They all
stared somberly as if they were attending a wake for the lost souls. He started
to gather them up when Draco put his hand atop Harry's to stop him. "I think
you should destroy each picture, too."
"What? Why? You can only put the sliver of your soul in one object." Harry
didn't know why, but for some reason, defacing the pictures seemed blasphemous.
"Because he enchanted the locket, if the pictures were in it, that's part of
it."
"And next you'll have Harry cutting up the chain?" Ron huffed.
Harry didn't have a particular objection to cutting up the chain, but he still
felt uneasy with the pictures. "This is all that's left of them, Draco."
"That would be the point, wouldn't it? You have to destroy the Dark Lord, not
just here and there; he has to be completely annihilated. This isn't the time
to get sentimental about the people who spawned him." Draco rolled Harry's hand
over and placed the images face up on the stump.
"He's right, Harry." Hermione set her hand on Harry's shoulder. "I understand
that it seems weird, but if there's any chance at all that Voldemort could use
these pictures, then you need to destroy them."
"Bollocks! Harry doesn't have to do anything Malfoy says." Ron reached for the
pictures, but Hermione slapped his hand away.
"It is weird that stabbing the locket didn't pierce the pictures." Harry stared
down at the angry faces of Marvolo and Morfin and the sad, defeated face of
Merope Gaunt. Taking the dagger up as he had before, he decided that Tom Jr.
was the easiest place to start. He stabbed the handsome face in the picture and
felt a surge of power warm his hands.
"See? It's bleeding." Draco sounded far too smug for Harry's taste.
Without looking, Harry could tell Ron had crossed his arms and gone quietly
defensive. He exhaled and pulled the picture from the blade and stabbed into
Marvolo. The same surge, the blood dripped over the portrait and began to pool
with the other. He repeated the process with the rest of the faces, ending with
Tom Riddle, Sr, whom Harry felt the most for. He knew what it was like to be
caught up in something bigger than yourself. He couldn't blame the man for
running away from Merope. Grisly work done, Harry started to gather together
the pictures and the locket.
Draco grabbed the bundle and set it into his white apron. The blood blossomed
in bright red stains in the satin. Though Harry might find that more
interesting on another day, right now he felt too drained and too sad for all
of those people who died because of the sad home life of Merope Gaunt.
"Of course," Hermione said as she got up and dusted her knees off. "The blood.
Those pictures were made of his own blood, probably from pictures and memories
of those people. The locket was Voldemort's tie not only to the founders of
Hogwarts, but also to his family. Pure blood, familial blood, fascinating.".
Though Harry agreed with her, he didn't really want to think that much about it
right now. He gave her a quick nod to acknowledge that he'd heard it. Harry
stared at the bundle of wasted locket and crumpled paper as Draco wadded it up
in his apron. "I'll throw it all into the fire, just in case. Can't be too
careful." Then he looked at Harry with something that appeared to be
admiration. He nodded and then strutted back to the house, leaving the trio
behind.
"I think he likes nancing about in that get up. Look at the way he sways his
hips." Ron had wrapped his arm around Hermione and held her tight against him.
She rested her head against his broad chest and sighed.
"I don't think he does, and I don't think he's swaying his hips." Though he
wouldn't put it past Draco to do such a thing, to Harry he looked more unsteady
and unsettled than anything else.
"Then why do you think he wore it out here? D'ya think that he was worried that
someone would show up out here and he'd need to look the part?" Ron nudged
Hermione to start them walking back to the house.
"Ron, if Death Eaters showed up I think that what Malfoy was wearing would be
the least of our collective problems," Hermione pointed out.
Harry quickened his pace as he walked to the house so they wouldn't see him
blush, or his strange grin. He had another idea of why Draco might've shown up
like that, but he didn't want to get his hopes up. Not to mention that no one
he was with would be pleased with the notion. "I don't know, Slytherins are
peculiar."
"You can say that again," Ron said. Harry could hear his derisive snort as
Harry opened the door and stepped inside. In the relative gloom of the
claustrophobic house, Harry grinned.
***** Chapter 4 *****
Were Harry honest with himself, he'd have to admit that he'd been intentionally
avoiding Draco. If he were capable of that kind of honesty, he might go on to
acknowledge that the reason he was avoiding him was because he found the idea
that Draco had dressed up in the maid's uniform for him was too tantalizing to
give up. He knew that given the opportunity to dispute that idea, Draco would
make sure that Harry regretted ever believing it. Of course, none of this even
began to touch on why he found the concept appealing, because for now, Harry
was happy in his ignorance.
Neither Snape nor the dress had reappeared in over a week. Draco continued to
receive deliveries of treats and money from his mother. He was currently at the
door talking to the pair of pikeys who went to the shop for them. Draco's
posture indicated his irritation with dealing with them, but his was the only
face they knew.
This was the first time he'd seen Draco in casual Muggle clothing. Unlike some
of the Wizards he'd seen at the World Cup, Draco had a grasp on what to wear
and wasn't standing there in a floral muumuu. In fact, he was well attired in
tight-fitting jeans that hugged his pert, well-formed arse, and.... The door
slammed and Draco whirled around. He perked a brow at Harry's gaze, but didn't
remark.
Like the calm before the storm, such juicy topics that would have been the
source of much amusement, such as Draco's extended showers and Harry's leering,
were never mentioned. Harry frequently walked into rooms where Ron and Hermione
were speaking, only to watch them hush in his presence. However, he connected
that behavior to what couples do as opposed to them discussing his odd
behaviour. Oblivious to the silence, Harry tucked into another roasted meal
Draco had prepared. "Duck?" he asked, looking up at Draco.
"Rabbit," he answered, giving Harry an odd look as he sat down at the table
with the rest of them.
"It's good." Draco nodded in answer and went back to eating.
"Does Snape usually take this long between messages?" Hermione asked. It had
been a few minutes since anyone had spoken above the din of tinny utensils
scraping over chipped stoneware.
Draco jumped, having been deep in rumination. "He... I suppose sometimes he
did." His head lowered to conclude the line of questioning.
"So he just left you here alone with Pettigrew to flounce about in that...
dress?" Harry's tone was hostile; he wondered how or why Snape, if he cared
about Draco at all, would leave him to this.
Draco didn't even look up. "You seemed to like that dress all right, Potter. It
would seem to me that given your druthers, I'd be wearing it a lot more."
Though he ate his bite of rabbit apathetically, Harry noticed that Draco had
not transfigured his clothing back to proper Wizarding attire.
"I... I've just... never... seen... a boy... dressed... it's unsettling!" Harry
said, looking down at his food. "I've never even... seen a girl... like that."
"Well, there's a definite difference between a boy and a girl, Potter. Just
because you're confused and lonesome for the Weaslette--"
"Don't you talk about her!" Ron hissed, leaning forward. He glared with equal
venom at Draco and Harry. "Don't you dare talk about her, Malfoy. She and Harry
are meant for each other. He's just got this thing to do. A mission. Then he'll
be back with her, so knock it off!"
"We're not meant for each other, Ron," Harry piped up as Draco waved Ron off
and returned to expressionless eating. "If we were... well, I don't think she'd
keep dating other blokes."
"Harry, she's just trying to make you jeal--" Hermione began in a tone that
suggested a weary mother.
"I know what she's trying to do, and you know what? I don't care. If she wants
to date Seamus, then she should date Seamus. And Dean. Hell, she should throw
in Neville; I don't think he ever got a proper go at her! Yes, yes, then she
could complete the set!" Harry barked.
Draco giggled and covered his mouth.
"Shut up, Malfoy!" all three shouted.
In reply, Draco dabbed at his mouth with his napkin and then tossed it next to
his plate. "Well, it's been lovely," he sneered and rolled his eyes, "but I'm
going to bed. I'll see you there... lovey," Draco called over his shoulder as
he headed down the darkened hallway. His cloying tone elevated the tension in
the room for everyone except Harry, whose stomach gave an excited flip in spite
of the caustic delivery.
"Merlin, Harry, stop staring at his bum!" Ron said, grabbing Harry's shoulder
to wheel him around.
"I was not!" Harry looked to Hermione for back up but she just shook her head.
"What's he done to you, Harry?" Ron's tone was sympathetic but his stance
showed a strong urge to run after Draco and throttle him.
Hermione took Harry's hand and looked at him seriously. "Harry, it's all right
if you're gay. We're your friends and we understand that." She looked to Ron
for confirmation and he gave Harry an understanding nod. "But often in times of
stress we start looking to one another for comfort and I just want to be sure
that your feelings aren't just... confused."
Harry had always mourned the loss of his parents. He spent his whole life
wishing that he'd had his parents with him for those casual touches, for
support, for birthdays. This, he decided, was the one parental conversation he
didn't regret missing. Hermione and Ron as surrogates made it just plain
creepy. "Gay?"
"Harry, we see how you look at him. Just don't do anything you'll regret. As
girlish as he appears, Draco Malfoy is very much a boy, and I don't think he's
appropriate choice to experiment with." Hermione patted Harry's hand. Harry
stared at it.
"Experiment? Look, I'm more than aware that he's a boy, Hermione." Harry yanked
his hand back and then folded his arms over his chest. "I don't look at him in
any particular way."
Ron snorted.
Harry ignored it and kept his eyes on Hermione. "He's attractive. Boys can find
other boys attractive. He has a good sense of... er... style."
"It wasn't his style you were staring at, mate." Ron put his hand on Hermione's
shoulder and suddenly the image of parental concern was too overwhelming.
He felt the need to wipe those condescending looks off of their faces.
"Fine, I was staring at his arse. Is that what you want to hear? I was staring
at his arse and I liked it. I like looking at him in fishnet stockings and
sometimes in the mornings if I think I can get away with it, I stare at him
while he tosses off in the shower! You like hearing that? THAT I LIKE LOOKING
AT MALFOY TOSSING IN THE SHOWER?" Ron and Hermione's eyes had widened, but they
weren't fixed on Harry, but instead something over his shoulder. Harry slowly
turned to see Draco.
Draco stood in the hallway, affecting a posture of composure, but something in
his eyes was off. He looked scared. "Stop watching me in the shower, Potter,"
he mumbled as he brushed past the small group to get into the kitchen.
Harry stared at the floor, breathing slowly to try and calm himself. He heard
the creaky cupboard open, then the clink of glass. The water tap turned on and
shut off. Draco's footsteps back into the living area broke the silence as no
one dared to say a word. Draco paused as if he were going to say something, but
instead opted to head down the hall to the bedroom, his glass of water in hand.
Harry looked up to watch Draco's progress down the hall.
"Stop looking at my arse, Potter."
--
Draco hadn't told Harry to sleep in the drawing room, but he didn't get the
feeling that he was welcome in bed. There weren't loads of comfortable places
to sleep in the cramped cottage. Pettigrew slept in the drawing room on the
couch, and besides Harry didn't want chance being there when Snape fire called.
So, he stayed at the kitchen table reading for most of the night in his
indecision. Blearily looking up at the clock, he saw it was half-four. He
couldn't sleep at the table, so he decided to try to sneak into bed. He'd deal
with Draco in the morning.
Using a weak Lumos spell to create a soft light, he headed down the darkened
hall to the second door. Pushing it open, he crept into the room. He put his
lit wand on the nightstand, noting that Draco was pressed against the edge of
the bed-- probably out of habit, but Harry liked to believe he was expecting
Harry to come back.
Harry pulled on his pyjamas as quietly as he could and crawled into bed.
Picking up his wand, he brought it closer to Draco, cupping his hand around the
glowing tip to further shield the light. Draco had such a sweet face when he
was asleep-- so unbothered and blissful; no trace of a sneer. Lowering his wand
from Draco's face he saw a tuft of white fur from his chin to his chest. On
further inspection he found that Draco's arms were crisscrossed over something
fluffy. Vaguely remembering Draco trying to hide something from him the morning
he'd destroyed the Horcrux, Harry decided to investigate.
He stroked the side of it-- it was soft, but it wasn't warm. Draco rolled onto
his back and Harry saw more of the shimmering fur and a spiraled, golden horn.
The glittering tail revealed it for what it was-- a toy unicorn. Draco Malfoy
had a stuffed animal.
Harry sat back on his heels and stared affectionately at what had once been his
school nemesis. It was hard to imagine that this was the same boy who had
attempted to terrorize him at Hogwarts. Now Harry understood what Draco must've
been concealing the other morning. With a reducing spell he could hide his
"little secret" wherever he wanted.
Harry knew the signs of someone faking sleep from six years of sharing a dorm.
Draco wasn't terribly good at it. "What's its name?" he whispered.
The room was silent but for Draco's breathing.
Harry nudged him. "Come on."
The silence continued until Harry slid his hand on Draco's leg. Slapping it
away as he squirmed, Draco whispered, "Lolly. But never call her that. You are
not to refer to her by name or by what she is and you are never to touch her
with your dirty hands. Try not to think of her either. And if you tell anyone
about her, I'll have you killed." With that announcement, Draco rolled over on
top of her.
It was hard not to laugh. "Lolly? Why Lolly?"
"Don't say her name! I was young and I couldn't say many words." The pillows
he'd pressed his face into muffled Draco's voice. Harry could see his shape in
shadows through the sheets.
"Sorry." Harry was amused, but he was also too exhausted to properly tease him.
Flopping down on his side of the bed, he ignored Draco's shifting as far away
from him as he could get. "Well, it's late. Good night Malfoy... and friend."
Harry turned his back to Draco to let him have his privacy. It was probably for
the best, because Harry was having a hard time concealing his smirk that a 17-
year-old boy slept with a stuffed toy.
--
The next morning Harry awoke to the usual sound of the shower. Sitting up and
pulling on his glasses, he quickly changed, trying to pretend that he hadn't
noticed that the bathroom door was shut. He was almost past the threshold of
the room when he halted, and turned back to stand in front of the closed loo
door. Though he knew it was shut on purpose, he wanted to believe it had been
an accident. When he turned the knob and found that there was no moving the
door, his heart sank. Not only was the door locked, it was hexed. The hex was
probably rudimentary and easy to break, but Draco's point was made.
Harry stabbed at breakfast, feeling despondent. Hermione and Ron weren't trying
to be unsympathetic, but it was obvious that they didn't know what to say about
his brooding. Draco joined them a few minutes earlier than usual, but no one
spoke of it.
There were circles under his eyes, barely concealed by sloppy glamours. Harry
wanted to take a perverse pride in Draco's evident lack of sleep, but he
couldn't. It just fueled his confused and growing anger. In his mind, Draco
knew that Harry had been spying on him. The only thing that changed was that
now it was out in the open. He knew Draco saw him the first time it happened
and was positive that they'd exchanged glances a few times since. The innocent
act vexed him and after Draco shoved his plate away, Harry glared and said, "I
want to talk to you about our food list. Next time those kids go to the store,
I'd like it if you could get us some lollies."
"Excuse me?" Draco's respondent stare was murderous. Ron and Hermione just
looked between the two of them, unsure of why a sweet would be so contentious.
"Lollies, Malfoy. Or does tossing off in the shower make you deaf?"
"Does watching me give you an oral fixation?" Draco spat back. He stood up and
threw his napkin on the table. "Or maybe it's the withdrawal from seeing me
that makes you want to suck on something, you little ponce?"
"Hah! You knew I could see you! You knew it and you proved it by locking the
door this morning! YOU LIKED IT!" Harry likewise stood and threw his napkin
down as if initiating a duel.
Draco's face was a brilliant crimson and rapidly turning purple as he started
to work up to what appeared might've been a wicked rant when everyone heard the
flare of the hearth and Snape's drawling voice. Instantaneously, Draco's wand
was out and he was standing in the square-necked uniform. Though Harry wasn't
in his path, he shoved him hard, knocking him over a chair before he whirled
around and bustled to the drawing room.
Had Harry's heart and possibly his arm not been broken, Draco's retreating
form, with flaring white ruffles and a flash of knickers, might've been funny.
But as the door to the drawing room slammed, Harry fought the urge to cry.
--
Hermione healed Harry's arm, which had only been bruised, but otherwise no one
had spoken since Draco disappeared. Harry was just about to suggest they spy
through the door when Draco appeared in the doorway. He avoided eye contact
with Harry. Instead, he addressed Ron and Hermione; inviting them all to speak
to Snape.
They lined up in front of the fire with Harry on one side and Draco on the
other. Snape made it a point to speak to Draco as if no one else was tolerable
to look at, which suited Harry just fine. "Of course Dumbledore informed me of
the cup belonging to Helga Hufflepuff but I have not been able to secure its
location. However, I have heard tale of a secret chamber under Borgin and
Burkes. It was a slip from the Dark Lord himself and I believe it to contain
the silver shield of Rowena Ravenclaw."
Harry tilted his head. A shield-- that made sense. He'd begun to wonder, after
destroying the locket, why a man would own a locket; it seemed rather girlish.
Even Hufflepuff's cup seemed a little random. Tableware imbued with magical
properties? He'd begun to suspect that he'd be actively seeking to destroy the
fork of Gryffindor or the ancient comb of Ravenclaw. A shield, at least, had
some heft to it.
His thoughts were interrupted by Draco's snicker. "Borgin would top himself off
if he knew that he'd been literally sitting on something valuable that he
could've had at no cost."
Snape returned the haughty sneer and nodded. "Indeed." He glanced at Harry and
then returned to speaking to Draco. "I've also heard the Dark Lord speaking
repeatedly of 'guarding the Fen.' I assume he means the area around Norfolk. It
is legend that Salazar Slytherin hailed from the Fen; I would suppose that he
had found the location. It is a wide area to search, I shall endeavor to narrow
it, but in the mean time Draco, it would not hurt to read what you might from
my library about Slytherin folklore whilst the others are rooting out the
shield. I shall attempt to find more books from Hogwarts and maps of the era."
Draco nodded.
"Wait, Malfoy's coming with us," Harry announced. Everyone looked at him,
surprised.
"As invaluable as I'm certain he would be to you, Potter, he must remain."
Even though he was helping them, Harry hated every word from Snape's mouth. His
face twisted up. "Why, so you can molest him?"
Snape affected being nonplussed but Harry wasn't buying it. "Mr Potter, I would
think you to keep your deviant fantasies to yourself. No, Mr Malfoy must remain
here to protect his family. Whilst I am generally the only one to check in on
him, the Dark Lord is hard to predict. I'm certain you and your friends are up
to the task of retrieval on your own."
"And if we're not?" Harry knew they were, but he couldn't help pushing the
issue.
Waving his hand dismissively, "Then at least Malfoy and I will be covered."
Draco sneered at Harry and he felt a spark of the old hatred-- self-serving,
bastard Slytherins. "Right then. I suppose now we'll have to just guess where
the chamber was hidden?"
"Good luck, Potter." With that bit of insincere dialogue, Snape vanished.
--
Harry didn't like this. He didn't like any of it.
He didn't like leaving Draco at the house.
He hadn't liked packing for who knows how long.
He didn't like stealing away in the night to Apparate to Diagon Alley.
And he damn sure didn't like sleeping on the floor of Weasleys Wizarding
Wheezes.
Not only because he feared it would put the twins and their store in jeopardy,
but because the Pygmy Puffs rattled in their cages. Furthermore, he was afraid
that every time he turned around he'd either jostle something that would
explode, or worse, that catch sight of Ron and Hermione snogging again.
Not only was it distressing of its own right, but also it reminded him of how
little of that he was getting. He'd broken up with Ginny and blown it with
Draco. The break up with Ginny was less than bothersome. Particularly since
three of the five days that they'd been hiding out here, Ginny had made special
effort to stop by to show off a bracelet and matching earrings that Seamus had
given her.
Hermione had attempted to speak to him in indulgent tones about how Ginny was
really not over him and was just doing a poor job of trying to lure him back;
it just made Harry irritated with both of them. What if I don't want to get
back together with her? But neither Ron nor Hermione seemed to grasp that.
The more Harry tried to push Draco from his mind, the more he thought about
him. It was the little things that tricked him. Like a new batch of edible Dark
Marks, or the new product they'd introduced; a feather duster that distributed
dust rather than shuffling it away. The prank lollies choked him up. Harry
secreted away a few of the Marks and a feather duster. He decided Draco
wouldn't be terribly amused by the farting unicorn or black tongue sweets, so
he left those.
After consulting the clock, he sat up, realizing he must've dozed off, as it
was half four now and they needed to head to Borgin & Burkes to try to get into
the chamber again. The store had surprisingly high turnover of merchandise and
it was becoming quite tiresome to try and remember what they'd looked at
before. Hermione had started to take extensive notes on what went where,
accompanying it with sketches.
Harry was quite frustrated. They hadn't even a clue as to where the chamber
might be-- let alone what horrors there might be awaiting them.
--
"What if there are spiders?" Ron asked again as Harry sat down to go through a
trunk that he knew wouldn't hold the key, but needed searching anyway. They had
taken some of the black darkness powder (that the twins had managed to hold
back from the Ministry's seizure) to keep the front of Borgin's dark while they
used their lighted wands to search.
The store hadn't looked as big as it was from the outside. It had to be wizard
space, but Harry had started the glum theory that the store was actually
growing. "Then there will be spiders. But given who Riddle is, I think it's
more likely to be snakes," said Harry.
Hermione sighed, flipping through the pages of notes and then shaking her head
at the human bones on the tray. "Well there are snakes; I'd think Voldemort
would've tried to change it since he knows you're a Parselmouth, Harry."
"Does he know that?" Harry furrowed his brows and then wrenched his hand back
from something slimy in the trunk. He looked at the black goop in his hand and
wrinkled his nose.
"OF COURSE!" Hermione exclaimed. She threw her notepad towards a wall.
"Well, I'm glad you're so sure. I don't think he was in my head when I talked
to snakes, but then again, I guess if he's figured out I've opened the Chamber…
not that he's kept particularly brilliant track of things like that in the
past. You know, for an evil genius--"
"No, not that. Harry! We've been going about this the wrong way. How many
things have we seen in this shop that have remained here than a couple of
days?" She crossed her arms and looked at the boys expectantly.
Harry took in her frazzled hair and tired, but bright eyes. "Err... I don't
know?"
"What about that necklace?" She prompted.
Darting a glance around the store quickly, finally resting on the glass case
where it had lived, Harry saw that it had been replaced by what appeared to be
a jewel-encrusted werewolf head of all things. "Err, didn't Malfoy buy that? It
should be in the Ministry's hands."
Hermione stomped her foot. "No, no, no, Harry! Where did you look for it? Where
did you know to look for an item that hadn't moved for a couple of years?"
"The glass case?" Realization dawned on Harry and he stood up and dodged
through the narrow stacks of merchandise to get to the case. "Of course. The
fixtures-- those don't change. The register is always in that corner as well,
do you think it could be that?" he asked as he started to look over the case.
"Borgin would never have let Riddle alone with his money. Probably never rang
up a bloody thing," said Ron as he followed Harry. "Try Parseltongue."
Harry nodded and hissed, "Open up." No such luck. He turned back to Ron, "Well,
I guess we can't expect everything to be that easy."
"You're still hissing. That's creepy," Ron fussed at Harry's continued use of
Parseltongue.
Clearing his throat, he went back to English, "Sorry." Harry looked over the
case again, finally settling his gaze on the base. At the bottom of it was a
black pillar, but upon further examination with his wand pressed against it,
Harry saw tiny creases in strange patterns over the serpentine-heavy stone. "A
puzzle box?" He sat back and looked up at his friends, settling on Ron.
Ron lit up. "I love those!" They switched places and Harry stood behind him,
watching Ron crawl around the floor, searching out intentional lines in the
black marble. His fingers slid along the glossy black, prodding now and then to
test different surfaces. Tapping with his index finger, he finally moved to the
opposite side and pushed.
There was a high-pitched squeal of stone sliding together and then one segment
of the base shifted and stuck out at the other end. Ron scrambled up and moved
to that side, meticulously pushing the pieces around until one stopped, stuck
and zapped Ron's hand. Immediately it bubbled up in puss-filled blisters. "Ow!
Sodding Slytherin sadist!"
Hermione sighed and muttered a counter curse that appeared to at least halt the
blistering. "It's the best I can do now. Hold on." She pulled off her sweater
and wrapped it around Ron's hand. He winced, but thanked her and they traded a
quick kiss, which Harry turned his back to. After a few more pushes on the
black box, the glass case turned slowly, winding down to reveal a sinking
spiral staircase.
Harry started down it and looked up at Hermione and Ron, half hoping that they
would be sensible and stay where it was safe. "There might be spiders, Ron."
"I'll make them tap dance," he teased, nudging Harry, in spite of his blanching
at the notion.
Hermione wrapped an arm around Ron and another around Harry. "We're here,
Harry. No matter what."
As the staircase reached the bottom of the pitch-black pit, Harry squinted to
get his bearings. It seemed that his wand did very little good against the
dimness, as if Tom Riddle had discovered the darkness powder before the twins
and coated the chamber with it. All at once the gloom subsided and all around
him were Dementors. Harry felt woozy and grabbed onto Ron.
"Spiders!" screeched Ron.
"Oh, no I've failed!" shrieked Hermione.
Harry closed his eyes; trying desperately to concentrate on his happiest memory
as he felt the cold, slimy hands of a Dementor on his throat.
Hold on. His mind rapidly wrapped around what he'd heard the others say and as
he felt them cowering against him, knowing they were seeing something vastly
different than his vision hundreds of Dementors. Pointing his wand blindly, he
shouted, "Riddikulus!"
The spell emanated from his wand in a blinding flash of yellow-white light,
pouring out to cover each of the Dementor-Boggarts. One-by-one they popped into
the first thing that had entered Harry's mind.
Harry's jaw dropped and Ron grabbed his arm. "Now I'm really scared, Harry."
While Harry knew that laugher was the best way to stave off Boggarts, he wasn't
entirely sure what sexual arousal would do. He tried not to look at the willowy
Boggarts surrounding him with their soft skin, fishnets and swishing tutus.
Instead, he looked at Hermione, who had a mildly disapproving look on her face.
He let out a nervous laugh.
Hermione nodded and let out a forced-sounding laugh as the hundreds of Dracos
in their little black uniforms and pert arses in frilly knickers all started to
flee, tripping over themselves and scrambling over each other to escape the
laughter.
Ron started to laugh for real. "If only it were that easy to get rid of
Malfoy." He looked at Harry out of the corner of his eye, but just slapped him
on the back.
As the crowd of Dracos began to clear, they saw a lighted pedestal with the
shield atop it a the end of the long hall. Well, Harry glanced at it before
leering at one of the Dracos crawling away, his pettipantied arse flexing and
straining under the stretchy, sheer fabric as the frills of the petticoat
dragged along the floor.
"Harry!" Ron yanked his arm to pull him out of his daze.
"Right then." Harry tried to ignore the looks his friends were giving him by
rushing up to the pedestal. He was knocked back by an incredible gust of wind.
Fortunately, Ron and Hermione caught him before he fell to the hard floor. Now
his face was bright red with windburn. Hermione slid her hand over it and
looked back at the shield.
Upon closer examination (or at least as close as they could get), it was quite
ornate and silver with an attacking bronze eagle on the front and a large R
inlaid with mother of pearl and bone. While Harry realized from his brief
encounter that there were swirling currents of wind around it, he could not see
them. He pulled off his cloak and eyed Ron and Hermione. They both shrugged.
Throwing the garment at the shield, it got caught up in the momentum of the
swirling wind and then was summarily ripped apart. Thread and swatches of
material were spat back at them as they shielded their faces from the
onslaught.
"That seems bad," Ron said.
Harry nodded, "Really bad."
Hermione was pensive. "So, Dumbledore's arm was withered and looked burned.
Fire. And the two of you went down into a lake, so that's water. This would be
air. It would figure that Riddle would incorporate the elements. There's much
strength to be derived from it, not to mention the synchronicity."
"Great theory, although there's seven Horcruxes. Seven seems to be Voldemort's
favoured number," Harry pointed out.
"Maybe it's just coincidence, but I don't think so," said Hermione.
Harry shrugged and looked at her, wondering what the element for a journal or a
ring was, but he didn't want to push it. The Boggarts seemed to be catching on
to their lack of humour, and were making their stiletto-heeled way back towards
them.
"Hm, the opposite of wind is earth, isn't it?" asked Hermione.
"Great, let's throw some earth in there, then we can all have sand in our eyes,
be attacked by Boggarts, and still not have the shield." Harry didn't mean to
be snappy but he was becoming unnerved and he didn't know quite how to handle
it. The Boggarts were losing their Draco shape and Harry wasn't sure he could
put up another massive spell and still have the energy for this task.
"What else stops wind?" Hermione pondered.
"Walls," Ron answered in a flat tone.
"Walls." Hermione looked at Ron seriously for a moment and then nodded. "Then
we'll have to become walls for Harry."
"What?" Harry looked between them in confusion. Ron shrugged and looked at
Hermione.
"Anything the wind can get through will rip apart. We saw that with your cloak.
It's porous. If we're transfigured into walls, then we can't be torn." Hermione
nodded and tested how close she could get to the shield before she endured a
few scrapes with her hand.
There were a lot of things Harry didn't know; one of them was how to turn his
friends into walls. Not in the literal sense, because Hermione was teaching him
that spell already. What he didn't know how to do was to use these spells in
order to intentionally put his best friends in harm's way. He appealed to Ron,
"I don't... I can't do this. What if it doesn't work? What if I lose you?"
"Harry, you won't lose us. That's why Dumbledore told you to tell us these
things, because we're to protect you. In a lot of ways we're already your
walls. This is who we are. This is what we do. We're your team. Hermione and I
are here to help you. Even Draco, in a rather... twisted way," he said, looking
over her shoulder at the gathering Boggarts whose faces were melting into
spiders and looked quite eager to eat him, "is here. So just do it."
Harry looked to the changing half-Draco-half-Dementor Boggarts and it spurred
him on. Ron clapped his hand on his shoulder. "It's all right, mate. You know
Hermione knows what she's doing."
She looked less certain than Ron, but Harry decided to put that out of his mind
as he cast the freshly-learned spells. She froze first and then spread into a
hard, opalescent marble wall. He pushed her with magic, knowing there was no
way he could physically move a giant slab, until she butted up against the
pedestal. The shield wobbled, but did not fall. Nodding to Ron, he then
followed the procedure with him, creating a V angle in which to walk through to
get his prize.
Testing the area between the whirling vortex with his hand, he found there to
be no wind and walked unscathed to the stand and pulled the shield down. The
action caused a loud wailing as the entire room filled with the vicious wind.
Boggarts were torn to shreds, left in indecorous pieces of frayed fabric, blood
and bone all over the slickening, dark floor. Harry nearly panicked, but wedged
between his friends, the wind wasn't able to touch him. Using his wand to pull
them so close to him that he could barely move, he headed towards the rolling
stairwell, dragging his marbleized friends inch-by-inch along the hall.
The culvert in which the spiral staircase stood was narrow. Harry slipped into
it and then set his hand on the edge of Hermione's marble facade. The wind bit
at his wrist, gashing it and the side of his face as he ended the incantation
and yanked Hermione in with him. He repeated that with the dark red stone of
Ron's marble. They were scratched and wind-burnt, but otherwise unscathed.
--
The day was marching on into evening and Harry sat outside of the Burrow
listening to the ordinary sounds of the Weasley household preparing for dinner.
The actual destruction of the Horcrux had been somewhat anticlimactic. When
they'd run up the spiraling staircase, daylight was just starting to break out
on the horizon. Ron had quickly gotten the glass case to seal up and they were
careful to restore everything to how it had been so that their presence would
be undetected.
Ron suggested that they destroy the Horcrux somewhere neutral. Harry suspected
Ron just wanted to get him closer to Ginny again. So it was that they'd come to
the Burrow. Harry drove the elfin dagger through the breast of the bronze
eagle, shattering the inlay. He didn't know what came out of the ring, but thus
far he'd witnessed ink from the journal and blood from the pictures. The
shield, however, simply crumbled, fading from a solid, gleaming metal to chalky
ash. Ashes to ashes, Tom, Harry thought.
He ran his hand through the fine silt, thinking about how eventually he was
going to have to kill someone. It wasn't that Voldemort didn't deserve it;
quite the opposite if such an argument could be made. He knew he would do it.
He knew he could. It just made him incredibly sad to know that he had to. If he
didn't, Voldemort wouldn't stop. There would be no quarter, no mercy from his
end. Harry could show none either.
Ginny took a spot next to Harry; the scent of flowers awoke him to her presence
just before she reached for his dusty hand. "You're that much closer to being
finished, Harry," she said, interlacing their fingers. She rested her head on
his shoulder.
Harry fought the urge to recoil. He grit his teeth as something stabbed into
his shoulder. That was when he remembered the earrings that she was so proud of
Seamus giving her. He clenched his jaw and nodded, not trusting himself to
speak.
She squeezed his hand. "I'm glad. I've really missed you, you know. We can
finally get back together and move on with our lives."
Briefly, Harry wondered if Ginny shouldn't be in school. He didn't remember her
being here when they arrived. Did Ron tell the rest of the Weasleys about his
outburst over Draco? He wondered if that was why Ginny was here now.
"Harry, are you listening to me?" Ginny asked, lifting her head from his
shoulder.
"Sorry, I was just--" Harry turned back to face her, only to be confronted with
her lips on his. He shoved her back by her shoulders. He felt something inside
of him break. It wasn't just that he wanted Draco, he knew now more than ever
that he didn't want Ginny.
"Ron's right, you really are a fag," she hissed. Her face was filled with the
fury of rejection, and perhaps if she'd said anything else Harry would've
empathized.
"You taste like Seamus." He felt a savage glee in her bewildered expression.
That he'd never kissed Seamus (nor wanted to) didn't matter, that flicker of
doubt and hurt in her eyes was all he wanted.
"You... you're... you didn't..." she insisted as she scrambled up to her feet.
Harry also stood-- his face impassive to fan her doubt. He glared at the back
of her head as she ran back to the house. Only then did he exhale,
simultaneously proud and furious with himself for his cruelty. He toed his
trainer into the ash and then finally kicked it around till it was nothing but
a thin veil of whiteness on the patchily grassed ground. He looked up at the
Burrow, which had gone eerily silent as they tried to deal with whatever Ginny
was telling them.
Feeling a definite chill in the air that had nothing to do with the sun going
down, he made up his mind to head back to Spinner's End. He closed his eyes,
trying not to think of how angry Ron and Hermione were going to be that he left
without them. After the loyalty they'd shown him, they deserved better than
this. He prayed they'd understand and follow him after dinner. With a loud
crack Harry Disapparated.
***** Chapter 5 *****
"No... I don't like it. It hurts." Harry's eyes widened as he approached the
front door of Spinner's End. He heard Draco's whining drawl through the open
window.
He looked over his shoulder as if someone might be following, but he was alone.
Part of him wanted to rush in and stop whatever it was that was hurting Draco,
but the voice sounded more petulant than afraid, so he snuck in through the
door to continue listening.
"If you'd just let me do it, it wouldn't hurt," Snape's voice purred. A flash
of pale emerald light washed over the open drawing room door. The whoosh
sounded like arrival by Floo. "Here, give me that, I'll just--"
A hard slap cut Snape off. "Don't touch me," Draco snapped, "I said you could
watch, and that's it."
"Considering all I'm doing for you and your 'friends'..." Snape began.
Harry quickened his pace to the drawing room, peeking his head through the
door. He had to stand on tiptoes to see what was going on. The knot that formed
in his stomach at what he saw made him wish he hadn't looked.
Draco was in his maid's uniform and his white hat was tangled in his hair on
the back of his head. His legs were sprawled out in front of Snape, who was
hunched in front of him, smudged in soot from his recent travel. The firelight
illuminated a rather ordinary feather duster between Draco's pale legs. Propped
up on one elbow, Draco's hand wrapped around the dark handle and he rocked his
wrist back and forth; the purple feathers waved as the duster moved. "They're
not my friends," said Draco.
Snape's attention was fixed between Draco's legs, on the handle of the feather
duster sliding in and out of Draco. Harry's heart stopped and he grabbed onto
the doorframe to keep from losing his balance. Too many emotions hit him at
once and all he could feel was cold-- numb and cold.
"Stop it," Draco snapped. One pointed shoe was upon Snape's chest as the man
reached for him again. "Stop trying to touch me." He ground the sharp heel into
Snape's shoulder.
Hissing, Snape grabbed Draco's ankle hard enough to make Draco wail and bring
his hands up to hit Snape's chest. "You stupid boy!"
The aggression was enough to spur Harry into action. The sickening thud of
Draco's head smacking on the floor incensed him.
"He said stop," Harry growled as he stepped into the room, pulling his wand.
Snape looked up at Harry in shock. Draco froze for a moment and then dropped
his hands from Snape's chest and turned his face away in shame.
"Well, well, Potter to the rescue, I suppose you think--" Snape's monologue was
cut off by Harry grabbing a handful of Floo powder from the tray next to the
fire. He tossed it into the flames and shoved Snape in after it. He took great
pleasure in the violent look on Snape's face as Harry ordered the Floo, "to
Hell." He hoped it really would.
Wiping his hands free of the fine, silvery powder, Harry turned around and
looked down at the black handle sticking out of Draco and then up into his
flushed face. Draco refused to meet his gaze. "Why?" Harry asked.
Draco didn't even try to hide the indignity of his position, but left his legs
open; his hands remained limp at his sides. "I can't..."
"Oh, clearly you can," Harry said, his exhaustion overriding his anger, "Just
not with me."
Caught somewhere between admiration and defiance, Draco finally glared back at
Harry. "Maybe I just don't like you."
That hurt. Harry swallowed hard. "Then why are you doing all of this?" The toe
of Harry's shoe brushed against the feathers of the duster. "You tried to
protect us from Snape."
Closing his eyes, Draco went limp against the floor again. "I'm not doing this
for you; I'm doing this for my parents."
"Not even you believe that, do you?" Harry knew he was way out on a limb, but
Draco looked obscene and frail, so vulnerable with his eyes closed and his head
turned away. Kneeling next to him, Harry stroked his fingers along Draco's jaw,
tilting his head up. He brushed his thumb over Draco's lips, casting his eyes
over his expressionless face and closed eyes. Then he leaned in and pressed
their lips together. His lips were silky-soft and pliant and they surrendered
easily to Harry's coaxing. Soon their arms were entwined.
As Draco sat up, he whimpered in discomfort and Harry gently pried the feather
duster out of him and tossed it aside. He gathered Draco up in his arms and
carried him to bed.
--
Harry held Draco, pressing his face against his chest. He knew he must smell
awful, but for once Draco wasn't snarking. In fact, he was lying rather still,
allowing Harry to stroke his hair and the side of his face. As if he could read
Harry's mind about how still he was, he shifted on his side, making the
crinoline rustle.
"You should take this off," said Harry.
Draco's body stiffened, but he didn't say anything.
"I just meant that you should get into your pyjamas, this can't be
comfortable," Harry whispered against his forehead.
"You should have a shower."
"I know." Harry didn't make any moves to get up, but just continued to stroke
Draco's hair. "Did he... I mean... have you...?"
"No. That was the first time." Draco shifted closer; pressing his face more
insistently at Harry's sternum as if the suggestion of something like that
happening disquieted him.
Harry was flooded with relief and kissed the top of Draco's head. It didn't
sound like he wanted to do it, but he wasn't sure if he should pry or not. He
was at a loss for words, so he resettled his arms around Draco. "I'm glad."
Draco remained silent, but one of his arms circled around Harry and hung around
him awkwardly.
"He's old enough to be your father."
"My father thinks I should... do what he wants me to. Snape's done a lot for me
and my family."
"Is that why you did that?"
Draco nodded against his chest.
Tightening his arms protectively around Draco, Harry whispered, "What do you
want to do?"
"Hide."
The answer was so simple and plaintive that it broke Harry's heart and he clung
to Draco, trying not to think about what he caught him doing, or what Snape had
seen, focusing instead on how scared Draco was. Of course Lucius Malfoy would
want Draco to give Snape what he wanted. Lucius believed Snape was Voldemort's
right hand man. He'd want that prestige and to get back in Voldemort's good
graces.
"I can't breathe!" Draco wheezed.
"Sorry," whispered Harry as he loosened his grip. He let Draco sit up and
watched him examining himself in the maid's uniform. Draco looked so morose as
he smoothed down the wrinkled fabric over the abdomen. He felt a pang of guilt
for fetishising Draco's humiliation. "You should put on your pyjamas."
"But you like this." Draco reached up into his hair and frowned when he
discovered that his hat was missing.
"I like you... Draco." It was the first time he'd called him by his first name
to his face. Harry wasn't sure how it would go over.
Draco blushed with pleasure and looked a little coy. Then his features steeled
over again. "So you want to touch me now?" He looked just past Harry, over his
shoulder.
It was Harry's turn to blush, which he did. He sat up and shook his head. "I
want to have a shower, and I want you to change into your pyjamas."
Seeing Draco look to the nightstand where he knew Lolly was hidden, Harry
suppressed his urge to smile and nodded instead. He passed Draco, taking his
own pyjamas with him. As much as he wanted to touch Draco, he wasn't ready to
touch him like that. Not yet, anyway. What he very much wanted to do was to go
back to holding him. So he showered, washing the grime and old cobwebs he'd
collected from Borgin and Burke's as quickly as he could.
When he returned to the room, he half expected Draco to be on the other side of
the bed, feigning sleep. He was quite surprised to find him instead in the
middle of the bed, clutching Lolly, and wide-awake. Harry beamed at him,
pleased that he wasn't the only one who wanted to go back to how they'd been.
He slipped under the covers and wiggled closer with his arms out, but his eyes
stopped on the stuffed unicorn.
Draco followed Harry's gaze to Lolly and he tightened his arms around her,
narrowing his eyes at Harry.
"I just... I thought you didn't want me to touch her." Harry felt awkward with
his arm out, so he dropped it.
Draco looked down at Lolly and after a long consideration, he decided, "I think
it's all right for tonight." That pronouncement made, he slithered forward
against Harry, the squashy animal pressed between their chests.
Harry fought sleep for as long as he could just to watch the silken strands of
Draco's hair sliding through his fingers, but he was exhausted after a long and
exciting day. As he drifted off, he thought about Draco in the maid's uniform.
He decided that as much as he enjoyed seeing Draco in it, he would do his best
to see to it that he never had to wear it again.
--
There was a loud crash from the other room that sounded of glass breaking and
furniture tearing, followed by loud shrieks in familiar voices. Harry had run
down the hall, glasses askew on his face, before he even registered that he'd
woken up alone. Adrenaline pumped through his veins as he braced himself for
Armageddon-- Death Eaters, Voldemort, dead friends and the final show down he
wasn't ready for. So he was relieved to find Ron and Hermione crouched behind
the broken kitchen table lobbing fistfuls of fry up at Draco.
"It's not my fault!" Draco wailed, in part due to the fact that his once proud,
delicately scalloped beige robes were now forever ruined by chunks of sausage
trailing grease.
"YOU MADE HARRY CRAZY, HE WOULD NEVER HAVE SAID THOSE THINGS TO GINNY IF-- Oh,
hullo Harry," said Ron, hiding behind a sheepish Hermione, whose hands were
coated in shiny yellow egg yolk.
Draco shrieked and ran behind Harry, setting his hands lightly on Harry's waist
as he peeked out over his shoulder. Harry pressed his lips together to keep
from giggling as he felt a chunk of egg fall from Draco's hair onto his
shoulder. On the bright side, it didn't seem that Hermione and Ron were angry
with him for running away from the Burrow. On the down side, breakfast was
ruined.
"Tell him we're not… that I don't… well, at least that I'm not. We all know you
are, but it's not me! I didn't do anything!" Draco's voice was distinctly
hysterical, and if his words weren't bordering on being insulting, Harry
probably would've laughed out loud.
"I SAW YOU TWO WRAPPED AROUND EACH OTHER LAST NIGHT!" Ron looked down at the
bowls for something else to throw, but remembered that Harry was in the line of
fire and shoved his hands in his pockets.
The shouted revelation caused Harry to flush and he felt Draco hide his face
against the back of his shoulder. The soft tendrils of hair tickled the back of
his neck, causing goosebumps. "Look, Ron, I've told you before that I had no
interest in Ginny. It's not Malfoy's fault."
"Harry, she's just," Hermione started. She stopped when Harry's hands went up,
fingers splayed in an entreaty to not go on.
"I know. I know. 'She just wants to be with me-- dating someone else worked the
last time.' I just don't want to be with her. Look, I broke up with her to
protect her and she treated it like a game. It's not a game. It's life and
death. I spent the summer not liking her. I do like Malfoy however, and we're…"
A small voice squawked from behind Harry. "I'm not gay!"
The entire room groaned. Even Pettigrew, who had been sitting silently in the
corner, managed to roll his eyes against Draco's Imperius.
"What? I'm not! I like girls!"
"I walked in on you with a feather duster in your…" Harry protested, whirling
around. Ron and Hermione got up from behind the table to flank Harry and glare
at Draco.
"Shh!"
"A feather duster--"
"In his--"
"That was so my parents wouldn't be hurt!" Draco explained as if that would
make sense. Seeing the baffled expressions on Hermione and Ron's faces, he
exhaled. "Snape wanted me to." Harry grabbed Draco, pulling him close in
reactionary protectiveness. Draco just glowered at Ron and Hermione like a
defiantly wet cat. "It doesn't mean I'm gay!"
Hermione sighed. "No, that doesn't make you gay if you were coerced, but you
were… snuggled up with Harry…"
"The room gets cold!" Draco protested.
Ron stifled a laugh as Harry sighed and rolled his eyes. "Draco, I'm going to
become offended very soon."
The owl tapping at the window interrupted whatever Draco was about to say,
giving him the easy out of wriggling past Harry. Hermione removed the hex from
the drawing room door and Draco pranced inside as if he weren't covered in
breakfast. He threw open the window and grabbed for the scroll. The owl
contentedly nipped at bits of food on Draco's robe as he unfurled his
correspondence.
Harry stepped into the room first, although he didn't want to push this issue,
at least not when he saw the horrified look on Draco's face. It seemed
impossible for Draco to grow any paler than he naturally was, but somehow, he'd
managed it. Draco looked up at him and thrust the note into Harry's hand.
Narcissa explained to Draco that he was to be moved somewhere else, somewhere
with Snape. The note went on to detail how Snape didn't believe Spinner's End
to be safe for Draco any longer. He could only be guaranteed protection if he
stayed at Snape's side. Reading between the lines, even Narcissa appeared to be
suspicious of Snape's motives, but her message fell short of telling Draco to
run. The one thing Harry couldn't tell from the letter was whether Narcissa was
all right with what her son would have to do. The words made it sound like she
was struggling to remain calm, but the tone sounded angry and helpless. He
wondered what she'd say if she knew Draco had options.
"Greasy bugger's trying to get Malfoy away from you?" Ron asked Harry quietly
as Draco blushed and stared glumly out of the window.
Hermione sat beside Draco, ignoring the disdainful look she received in
response. She tried to comfort him by striking up a conversation. Draco rolled
his eyes in annoyance but answered anyway. After trading a few comments, he
became more interested in their exchange and sat up. The owl, deciding that he
was quite full of fry up, flew off again with no return message.
Harry shook his head as he tried to follow their conversation. "I always
thought that the Theory of Perlaxas Maganenum negated the Law of Nemesio,"
Hermione said.
Draco leaned closer, becoming more engrossed in into the conversation. "Of
course you'd think that, but that's because you can't get past the Quakalona
curves. If you were to reread that chapter…"
Harry looked at Ron who looked back at him, his face mirroring his confusion.
At least Draco was talking. Ron turned to mend the furniture and clean the
room, and then looked at Harry, who was eyeing Pettigrew curiously. "We can't
just let him leave with Snape. Not if that pervert intends to--"
"I agree. I'm just not sure how we can keep him here without compromising the
safety of his parents," Harry said, relieved that Ron felt some mercy towards
Draco.
"Do you think he knew this was coming?"
Pondering the question, Harry directed the dishes to the kitchen, where they
cleaned and shelved themselves. "I don't think he had much of a choice up until
now."
"Good on him for cuddling up to you," Ron said pointedly.
Harry's stomach knotted up. Was he forcing himself on Draco like Snape had? He
wondered about Draco's denial. They'd all laughed at it, but what if Draco
really wasn't gay? Worse yet, what if Draco had cuddled up to him for
protection? He felt the blood drain from his face. "I-- I guess it is…
convenient."
Ron appeared remorseful for his harsh conclusion, "You really like him."
It felt good to recognize and finally admit it, in spite of Draco's denial. "I
really do."
Ron nodded and grinned sympathetically, "I hope he likes you back."
"I hope so too." Harry sighed and looked at his blue-grey trainers.
--
Draco seemed mollified by the intellectual conversation with Hermione, but soon
retired to wash the remnants of breakfast off. He hadn't returned to face them,
and no one seemed to know enough of what to say to try and bring him back out.
So Ron and Harry had a conversation about Quidditch, while Hermione found a
book about the history of local geography and attempted to research other
possible Horcrux locations. As she had been staring at the same page for the
past two hours, Harry figured she hadn't made much progress.
Lunch had come and gone with nary a peep from the bedroom. They'd settled on
sandwiches and debated bringing one in to Draco. Harry had gone so far as to
make one and stood in front of the door, but remembering the anguished look on
Draco's face after he'd read his mother's letter, decided to give him till
dinner and retreated.
Harry sat for much of the afternoon rereading Narcissa's missive, searching for
any possible way that she would be coding a message telling Draco to save
himself, but he could not glean anything of the sort. She sounded remorseful,
even resentful, but she hadn't warned Draco off Snape.
Ron, Hermione and Harry finished their dinner in stilted silence. "If you want
to… you could sleep on the floor in our room," Hermione offered, much to Ron's
dismay.
"No, this is ridiculous. He needs to eat." Harry summoned a plate and portioned
out some spaghetti, which hadn't been terribly good, but at least it hadn't
been roast meat again. Hermione gave Harry a wry smile and Ron nodded. "I might
be right back." He stood up and straightened his shoulders and headed to their
room.
Knocking produced nothing, so Harry opened the door. The room was lit with
three sputtering candles. A book was left face-down on the bed. Draco was
nowhere in sight. Harry stepped inside, his heart beating frantically. All at
once, Harry felt his arm pulled and he was yanked forward. The door slammed
shut behind him and he was thrown against it. His head made contact with the
wood and he felt headachy and dizzied.
Eyes wide, Harry couldn't seem to bring into focus the person in front of him,
who was plundering his mouth too fast and too hard. It wasn't until he could
smell the citrus and felt the tendrils of Draco's hair against his face that he
started to relax. A little. The kiss was all teeth and tongue and awkward press
of noses. Whereas their first kiss had been confused and soft; this was rushed,
desperate and had an edge of resentment. Harry tried to regain control, but he
was foolishly trying to keep the spaghetti on the plate. He dropped it when
Draco's hand pressed over the front of his trousers, fondling him. "Draco,
stop!"
Draco didn't respond to Harry's plea. He leaned against Harry's hands as Harry
pushed him away. He didn't speak, but Draco's bloodshot and swollen eyes said
it all.
Breathless, Harry scrambled for something to say. "I thought you weren't gay."
He regretted it as soon as the words left his mouth.
His eyes glistening, Draco let out a choked sob and croaked, "I don't know… I
don't know what I am. I'm not like you. I can't… I can't just decide these
things on a whim."
Releasing Draco's shoulders, Harry wrapped his arms around him. "Don't cry,
Draco," he whispered.
"I'm not crying," Draco sobbed. Harry stroked his hair gently and patted his
back. "I don't cry. I'm just… sensitive."
Harry kissed his temple and nodded. He wasn't going to argue, this wasn't the
time. "I know, I know." It hurt so much to see Draco like this, to feel his
slender body pressing against him, tense with emotion. He clung tighter.
"Don't make me go with him. I don't want to go, please don't make me…." Draco
pled. "I know he has information that… that you can't get otherwise but… but
I'll make it worth your while, I swear."
Harry wasn't sure what heartbreak really felt like up until that moment, but
now he was hot with it. He was short of breath and shocked into keeping his
face as neutral as he could, even though no one could see it. He squeezed Draco
tighter, wishing he'd never said that; wishing that he could still believe that
Draco would want anything from him other than to be protected, but wishing most
of all, that he could cry. You already make it worth my while. "You don't have
to go with him, Draco," he managed.
Draco started to force another harsh kiss on him and Harry pushed hard enough
that Draco fell back a few steps. "You want me," Draco panted, looking baffled.
"I've seen how you look at me."
Harry could only stare at Draco, feeling anger and pity warring. He mouthed a
few words, but he could add voice to nothing. He felt incredibly stupid for
having read Draco's gestures wrong all this time. Clearly, he had been trying
to enamor Harry simply to have a failsafe. The fishnets, the clingy jeans, and
everything else, had all been carefully chosen to cultivate his attraction. How
could he have been so stupid? "I thought you wanted me, too."
Draco looked ready to say something, but instead blushed brilliantly and looked
away. He took a few steps backwards and then sat on the bed. He brought his
hands up to undo his pyjamas, starting at the collar.
Harry ignored him, instead turning his attention to repairing the dinner and
floating it onto Draco's lap.
Draco stared at the plate curiously for a moment and then peered at Harry.
"What's this?"
"Dinner, Draco. You need to eat." Harry headed towards the bathroom after
pulling his pyjamas from the dresser.
"But what about…" Draco asked, tugging at his robe.
"Eat up, tomorrow we're leaving." With that, Harry shut the door to the loo and
stared in the mirror. Only then could he let himself cry.
The next morning, Draco left the door to the bathroom open while he showered.
Harry disregarded it and went to breakfast.
--
"But if I vanish, then my mum will be left out in the cold to fend for herself
against the Dark Lord! She'll be slaughtered!"
Harry rubbed at his temples. "Draco, we have very few options here. If we stay
here, then you're probably going to have to do something unpleasant eventually.
I'm sorry that you're in this position but it's really not my fault, so I'd
appreciate it if you'd stop yelling at me. I am trying to help. We all are."
Hermione looked at Harry in shock-- even Ron seemed a bit surprised with
Harry's coldness.
Draco appeared too hysterical to notice. "I can't just leave her to die! As
little as I want to do that with him-- I can't just…"
"Perhaps we can move her with us," Hermione offered.
"She won't, she won't come… she'll call me a traitor!" Draco paced, shoving his
sleeves up. They fell back down immediately.
Harry ignored the nervous fidgeting and stolen glances. "Well maybe you should
just do it then," he snapped.
"Harry!" Hermione gasped.
"Maybe I will!" Draco shot back.
Ron looked between them both, finally settling on Harry. "Mate…"
"Then you can report to us how being gay is working out for you!" Harry stood
at the table, glowering.
Draco withered under the glare at first, but then whirled around and stormed
back to his room, slamming the door behind him.
--
"You can't have him." Harry sat in front of the fire, glaring at Snape. He'd
wondered how long it would take before he of the hooked nose and annoying
demeanor would show up to claim Draco and gloat about it. He was surprised
Snape had waited even a day.
"I suppose Draco cannot speak for himself?" Snape stared at the three of them
with derision. "I'm certain he will not appreciate your negotiating on his
behalf with his mother hanging in the balance."
Harry cleared his throat. "I'm certain that Lord Voldemort wouldn't appreciate
your handing us a Horcrux. Nor would he be thrilled that you're helping us." He
felt Hermione and Ron leaning forward, ready to defend. They'd all agreed that
they could finish Voldemort without Snape.
Flinching at the way Harry invoked Voldemort's name, Snape said, "You're a very
imprudent boy. Don't martyr yourself for Malfoy. He'll stab you in the back the
moment you become inconvenient." Snape perked a brow as he folded his arms, his
words a fresh challenge.
Harry shifted and regretted it, as he watched the sickly grin spread over
Snape's face. "That's my choice to make, isn't it?"
"Very well, be an irrational Gryffindor. It is not my concern. The boy can
stay. I'll inform his mother of their death sentence."
"We're moving tomorrow. To Grimmauld Place. You may contact us there by Floo.
With Dumbledore's murder, the Fidelius has been lifted, but I'll have it
warded."
Snape was taken aback. His eyes widened in spite of his obvious attempt to
remain neutral. "Taking Draco from this house is guaranteeing his mother's
demise."
"If Narcissa dies, then I'll be forced to explain to Voldemort how you've been
helping us." Harry leaned closer to Snape, close enough to smell his rank
breath. "So, I suggest you stop wasting time and figure out a way to explain it
to Voldemort. We're leaving tomorrow." Harry shot a stream of water at the
flames from his wand to end the call abruptly. He traded glances with Ron and
Hermione, who had paled but returned his nod.
--
"I don't understand why you're doing all of this for him while being so cold,
Harry," Hermione said over dinner. She'd taken Draco food, only to find the
previous meals untouched and his trunk open and unpacked.
"I'm doing it because someone needs to." Harry stared at his food. He felt so
miserable he could barely function, but he wasn't about to let Draco or his
friends see this weakness. Soon day would pass completely into night and he'd
have to face Draco again. He wasn't sure he could.
"I thought you liked him." Ron finished the curry and leaned in to kiss
Hermione on the cheek in thanks for a good meal.
Harry shrugged. "I do-- did." He didn't want to explain. It was still too fresh
and humiliating. How did you explain just how difficult relationships could be
to friends who appeared to have everything in their relationship figured out?
"You know Harry; you can't just save someone halfway. You have to do it
completely, or not at all. You shouldn't be doing it just because you like him,
either. You should do it because you want to help him." Hermione narrowed her
eyes at Harry, but relented as Ron tugged at her shoulder.
"That's-- I am helping him. That's what I’m trying to do. Grimmauld Place will
be better, you'll see." Even Harry didn't look sure of this, but he'd chosen
this course of action and he was going to stick to it.
"Whatever, mate." Ron squeezed Hermione's shoulder. "We're going to bed."
Hermione appeared a bit annoyed with Harry, but stood to follow Ron's lead. It
was obvious she wanted to say something, but Ron nudged her. "Goodnight,
Harry."
He nodded. "Goodnight."
--
Harry sat at the table for a few minutes before clearing the dishes away. He
hand washed them, trying to keep his mind blank. He'd been putting off facing
Draco all day long, but it was getting late, and if they were to move the next
day. He needed to get some rest. After putting the dishes back into the
cupboards, he headed to the room.
Lying at the edge of the bed was Draco, curled around Lolly in a fetal
position. There was only a single candle left lit for Harry. Draco's trunk was
open and half-packed-- an obvious nod to Harry's decision; but not too
agreeable. That was fine. They could finish the packing in the morning before
they left. Harry changed into his pyjamas and made no move to rouse Draco to
talk. In the morning, Harry found the door to the loo to be shut again.
He did not try it to see if it was locked.
***** Chapter 6 *****
"I don't know if you're being ignorant or purposefully obtuse, Potter," Snape
bellowed from the flames of fireplace. After a half hour's discussion, Harry
continued to insist that today was their moving day.
Draco sighed as he stood next to his trunk, dressed in Muggle clothing and
examining his nails. He tugged at his t-shirt, making a face at the name of the
Muggle band across it and the scruffy-looking figures that were in the band. "I
spent six years at Hogwarts trying to figure that out. I don't think that
answer is knowable in this lifetime."
"Hush, you," Harry retorted. Draco sat on his trunk and huffed in response.
"Look, I said yesterday that we were going to Grimmauld Place and that's where
we're going." Harry turned to Hermione and Ron for confirmation, but they were
looking at each other. There was mutiny on the horizon.
Snape eyed Harry before answering. "It is not feasible for me to make
arrangements that quickly, Potter. I did what I could, but Narcissa Malfoy is
unwilling to budge from the Manor. Being where she is puts her at risk should
Draco be considered a traitor."
Harry folded his arms. "Then we'll have to bring her with us."
Draco rolled his eyes and sniffed.
"As Mr Malfoy has so eloquently put it, Narcissa will not be moved if she does
not wish to be," Snape said, giving Draco a sidelong glance.
Even the act of Snape looking at Draco set Harry's protective nerves on edge.
Fighting the urge to slap that leer from Snape's face, Harry cleared his throat
to garner his attention back. "Then you'll have to make her see that she should
be moved."
Snape reached out to Draco, stroking his fingers through the blond hair. Draco
batted his hand away and scooted further away on his trunk. Harry couldn't help
but look smug. Not that he wanted Draco himself, of course. He'd vowed to
protect Draco-- that was all there was to it.
Pulling his hand back, Snape turned his attention to Harry. "That will take
time, time that your arbitrary sense of righteousness isn't allowing for. You
are going to get more people killed, Mr Potter, or are you too arrogant to see
that?"
Harry flinched at Snape's implication, but held Snape's glare. "You know why I
want to move us."
Snape waved him off. "I've no idea what you're talking about."
Harry started to laugh, but Hermione cut him off. "Maybe we should stay here
for a few more days while he sorts it out, Harry." She raised her brows at
Harry's glower but looked past him at Draco, who appeared to be growing upset.
"Even when we go to Grimmauld, we'll be in contact with Snape. It's really not
accomplishing anything to--"
"It's my house! There's more room and there's-- it's mine!" snapped Harry.
"All right, you have a point, we could use more room," she said, "but Harry,
just because we're in your house doesn't mean you'll have any more control."
"We can use a Fidelius charm and we won't be sitting ducks for Death Eaters,"
Harry pointed out.
"The Death Eaters won't be coming here unless something seems suspicious. If
you keep throwing tantrums and taking my attention away from them, then they
will have a reason to be suspicious. If you leave right now, Narcissa's blood
will be on your hands, Potter. If your ego is worth yet another life, then by
all means--" Snape folded arms over his chest to close his point.
Draco stood up and began to yank his trunk towards the door.
"Where are you going?" Harry asked. Ron took a spot in front of the door.
"Back to the room to unpack until you lack-wits sort out what you're going to
do. I'm not leaving without knowing my mum's safe." Draco shoved Ron out of the
way and lugged his trunk behind him.
Snape attempted to continue, "Nevermind him, I've found the location of another
Horcrux."
Harry continued watching Draco pull the trunk down the hall. He didn't seem to
be in a big hurry. Eavesdropping, he wagered. "Where did you find it?" he
asked, focusing back on Snape.
"Well, I haven't found the item, just where it's likely to be. I believe that
you saw the orphanage where the Dark Lord grew up?" Snape waited for Harry to
nod before he glanced at Hermione and Ron. "We had believed it to be in Surrey,
but that was a much larger orphanage than the one he grew up in. I've managed
to procure the address to where it is in Sutton. Progress being what it is, I'm
afraid the building has been built over."
"What is it now?" Harry asked. Snape handed him a slip of paper with the
address scrawled out on it an all-too-familiar girlish script.
"Some shop or other. That is unimportant."
"Except that we'll need to figure out how to get into it," Ron said, peering
over Harry's shoulder to read the address. Hermione shrugged at Harry.
"Mr Weasley is setting up a place for you three to stay in the area, so you
will have accommodations should it take you as long as it did before." Snape
smirked.
Harry wasn't amused with any of Snape's insinuations. "Us three? What about
Malfoy?"
"He's staying here. You have work to do and moving him would arouse suspicion,
as I've mentioned repeatedly." If Harry didn't know better, he'd swear that
Snape's dull baritone had gone sing-song.
"I'm not leaving him here with you. You'll--" He glared at Hermione who had put
her hand on his shoulder, but instead of her eyeing him as if to tell him to
let it go, her eyes were narrowed at Snape.
Snape's brows rose. "Whatever you may think, I do not force myself on young
men."
"Just coerce them so they don't think they have a choice," Hermione spat. Harry
watched her angry face for a moment and then turned to Snape.
Snape waved his hand dismissively. "He must stay here, if he's found to be
gone, then they will start a search after they've murdered his mother. Is that
what you wish?"
"You're a Potions Master; make enough Polyjuice potion to keep Peter looking
like Malfoy until we get back. Or just keep people from stopping by. You know,
you speak as if the Death Eaters just drop in all the time, but we've been here
a few weeks without so much as an owl from anyone but you and Malfoy's mum."
Hermione crossed her arms and glared coldly. "I think you're bluffing."
Snape looked indignant and then he raised his brows to a spot just beyond them.
Draco drawled in an icy tone, "I can take care of myself. Thank you all ever-
so-much for your concern."
Harry whirled around and looked at him anxiously. "But…"
"I'll be fine. Go get your Horcrux." Draco leaned against the wall leading to
the kitchen and closed his eyes as if looking at Harry was too painful.
"Very well, that's settled," Snape said. "You'll be leaving this afternoon."
--
The hotel room was quite posh and Harry worried briefly that the Weasleys might
be paying for it. The Order itself did not have much money, which increased his
suspicion. Seeing the delighted grin on Ron's face as Hermione swirled around
in the room, Harry understood and felt guilty for thinking everything revolved
around him. He sighed as they made weak excuses about being tired and headed
off to "get some rest."
The sounds coming from the room strangely reminded him of Draco. He thought
about how they'd left him-- standing in the doorway of the kitchen with his
eyes closed as if everything was too much of a nightmare to even look at. They
hadn't spoken directly to one another right up until Harry left, when Draco
wished him good luck and told him not to worry. Easier said than done. He
wondered if Snape was already starting to try to break Draco down or if he'd
give it a couple of days.
No, I'm not going to think about this. It's over. Whatever all of that was… I
don't care now. Draco was just using me. He wants me to worry about him and I'm
not falling for it. Harry turned over in the oversized empty bed and felt
disappointed not to see Draco squeezed at the edge. Determined that this wasn't
going to bother him, Harry wriggled to the middle of the bed, spread his arms
and legs out and stared at the ceiling till he fell asleep.
--
Harry double-checked the address on the piece of paper and stared at the
alleyway. On one side stood a Virgin Megastore, on the other, an empty shell of
a building for hire.
"Snape did say that progress had eliminated the original building," Hermione
pointed out.
Sighing, Harry stared down the narrow alleyway and turned around to face them.
"Right, then. Er, I guess we should start by going into the store? Maybe look
around?"
Ron nodded. He couldn't take his eyes off of the shop filled with CDs and DVDs
and a world of Muggle items that Harry was pretty sure that Ron had seen, but
not in this quantity. "My dad would love this place."
Harry grinned and nodded, wondering if maybe Ron hadn't inherited a bit of
Arthur's appetite for Muggle electronics. He followed Ron and Hermione into the
shop, passing over vulgar displays of scantily clad women and men wearing
plastic bags with elaborate braids. Ron appeared fascinated, Hermione amused.
Harry couldn't help but think of all of the crazy things Draco would probably
have to say about this place with its bright lights and gaudy red signage.
The employees appeared to be in their own worlds of registers, restocking and
chatting one another up. He tried to catch the eye of them a few times, but
none seemed interested in helping a customer, so he started to peruse the edges
of the store, running his fingers along the walls, looking for fake panels.
He'd gotten to the t-shirts in the back corner before he remembered that this
place had been constructed well after Voldemort fell. His eyes landed on a
black t-shirt with green and silver lettering that proudly proclaimed "Virgin."
It was too absurdly Slytherin for Harry not to buy. He reasoned that he was not
buying Draco Malfoy a gift, so much as stumbling upon an excellent way to talk
to one of the salespeople. He pulled the shirt from the rack and laid it over
his arm and peered around one last time. The Spice Girls weren't likely to have
the answers he was looking for. He headed for the check out.
"Thissit?" the young man with the spiky black hair and face studded with
jewelry asked.
Harry nodded, ignoring the clerk's obvious eye roll at someone buying a branded
t-shirt. Suddenly, he realized that he'd come to the desk without a plan at all
about how to broach the subject of what he was looking for. He couldn't say
exactly what he was doing, but there was no reason to hide that he was looking
for an orphanage. "Actually," he said, after getting to total and pulling a wad
of money from his pocket, "I came here for kind of sentimental reasons. My
grandfather used to live at an orphanage around here. I guess I wanted to see
it."
"That old place? Long gone. Burned down ages ago," the man said as he handed
back change. He folded the shirt and then shoved it into a small, plastic bag.
"Burned down?" Harry was taken aback that someone not much older than he would
know about something like that.
"Oh yeah, back in the seventies. Burned up with all the kids inside-- was
terrible." The man leaned against the back corner after throwing the bag
towards Harry.
"Were you there?" Harry rolled his eyes at the stupidity of the question. Of
course he hadn't been there; this guy would not have even been alive back then.
"Er... I mean, how do you know about that?" He took the bag and squeezed it
down as much as he could and shoved it into his loose jean pocket. It didn't
quite fit, even with the air compressed out of it and hung out awkwardly.
The man shrugged. "There's a sign 'bout it out in the alley. Take my smoke
breaks out there sometimes. Creepy little thing with snakes and skulls all over
it."
"In the alley?" Harry asked breathlessly, already starting towards the door.
"S'what I said." The surly employee shrugged and turned to talk to a young lady
who had wandered up as Harry dragged Ron and Hermione outside.
--
"Hiding in plain sight," Ron marveled as Harry slid his fingers along the
serpentine frame of the pewter plaque.
The snakes seemed to sense magical fingers, as they writhed under Harry's
touch. He snapped his hand back and stared at it in horror. Fascinated,
Hermione reached out to them, but they didn't react to her at all. They all
looked at one another.
"Maybe this is another thing with Parseltongue?" Ron offered.
Harry shrugged and tried speaking to the sign, telling it to open up.
"Touch it while you speak to it," Hermione said.
While the snakes did twist under his touch, they made no move to open anything
in spite of Harry's attempts at passwords such as "open up," "Tom Riddle,"
"Marvolo," "Gaunt" and a few desperate pleas of "incest is best" and
"Mudblood." Harry shook his head, his hand still caressing the moving snakes.
"I don't think that's the way."
Ron narrowed his eyes at the sign and reached out to it while Harry was
touching it, but the small snakes turned back to stone when he touched it. It
didn't appear to be a test for blood purity, not that Harry would've passed it.
"In memoriam of Chastewick House for Boys," he read.
"Maybe it's reacting to the part of you that's Voldemort, Harry," Hermione
observed before she looked at the sign again. "Interesting that there were
exactly seven boys left to burn at the time."
"If by 'interesting' you mean 'homicidal and creepy,' I'd agree with you,"
Harry said. Feeling something cold and metallic wrap around his thumb, he
looked at it in alarm. The snake had grown and was sucking at his thumb,
inching forward as it grew bigger. In a fraction of a second, it became big
enough to swallow his hand and moved up his arm. He began to panic.
"No, Harry! Leave it, that's got to be it-- it's--" Hermione held Harry's arm
up to it so he wouldn't pull away and it started to cover her hand as well.
The group fell silent as Ron added his hand. Harry looked gratefully at the
other two as the cold metal soon surrounded them, compressing them in a
stifling, inky coldness.
Harry felt like he was falling, sliding headlong into oblivion with nothing to
clutch onto but his mates. All he could hear was the accelerating sound of
their breathing. He realized, after a few terrifying seconds, that his throat
was raw from screaming. He could see that Hermione was screaming too, but he
couldn't hear her either.
Just when Harry thought for certain that he was going to go mad from the
complete absence of gravity and perspective, everything was unbearably hot and
bright red. Finally, he could hear his, Ron and Hermione's screaming along with
a loud roar of-- something.
It took a moment to realize his eyes were still closed, and once they opened,
he registered other wails of terror and pain. The three of them stood in the
midst of a burning building. Harry assumed it to be the orphanage. The smoke
caused him to choke and cough, so he dropped to the floor in the hope of
attaining precious air.
When he hit the floor, he was shocked to find the air breathable, although it
was still hot. He looked up to tell Ron and Hermione about this revelation of
good floor air. They stood over him, looking down, sporting large bubbles
around their heads. Hermione's wand was drawn.
Reaching up, he felt the protective bubble around his head and blushed.
"Thanks, Hermione." The sound of his appreciation echoed in the bubble and he
tried to remind himself not to speak too much.
Peering around the room, he realized they were in the same room in which Tom
Riddle had been in when he saw him in the Pensieve. Or so he assumed. The
wardrobe appeared to be the same. Shabbier, and painted in an orangey-red in a
nod to 70s trends, but in the style of the wardrobe that he remembered Riddle
kept his treasures in. He moved to open the wardrobe.
There was a, earsplitting scream that cut off abruptly, followed by another.
Harry looked between Ron and Hermione.
Hermione was mouthing something. "Killing them."
Harry furrowed his brows. Killing who? Then it occurred to him. The kids in the
orphanage! Of course! Voldemort was killing them. He started for the door.
Ron grabbed Harry's arm and shook his head. He pointed at the wardrobe and then
to himself and Hermione, walking his fingers to indicate that they were going
to go check it out. The sound of a baby wailing made Harry jump and his pulse
increase, but Ron spun him around and shoved him at the bookcase. When Harry
turned around, Ron and Hermione were gone.
The wardrobe appeared normal, or at least as normal as an antique painted
orange would look, but when Harry approached it, it burst into flame. Harry
brandished his wand, flicking it as he used a wordless spell to create water.
The flames turned green upon contact with magic and faded to blue when he ended
the spell.
Well, there's something you don't see every day.
Screwing up his courage, he reached through the flame, feeling his skin blister
and boil. He shrieked inside of his bubble, the sound deafening in the enclosed
space. Yanking open the wardrobe, he saw the cup of Helga Hufflepuff shining in
all its golden glory. Lunging forward he grabbed it and yanked his arm back,
only to find that it wasn't scorched. That's when he realized that though he
was standing in the midst of flames, he hadn't even broken out in a sweat;
although now he was starting to. In fact, his jumper was starting to catch
flame at his elbow.
A second later, Hermione and Ron came through the door looking quite
bedraggled. Hermione's hair was singed and shortened in patches. In her arms
she clutched a bundle that appeared to be an infant. "Get out of here," she
mouthed.
Harry looked around the heating room wildly, trying to figure out how to
escape. He didn't see an opening. The baby in Hermione's arms wailed and
squirmed, reaching for the wardrobe. The three looked at one another. Ron tried
to hex back the flames, but the result was the same as Harry's-- they turned
green and then blue.
Both of the baby's arms were reaching towards the cabinet. There was something
peculiar about the child, something beyond the preternatural understanding of
what was going on, but Harry couldn't put his finger on it. "The way out is
through," he said, ignoring the echoes in the bubble. Between the infant's
screams and the roar of the increasing fire, no one heard him. So Harry jumped
into the wardrobe, knowing the others would follow if it was possible.
He tumbled back into the alleyway sunburned, scorched and smoky. Immediately,
he ended the incantation giving him the bubble head. Hermione, Ron and the baby
followed. Harry ended their Bubblehead spells and stood holding Hufflepuff's
cup.
Harry set the cup down on the ground, and after a quick look around, he used a
Diffendo hex to split the cup apart. Out if it came seven wisps of blue-grey
smoke that fluttered into thin air. "The children…" Hermione said sadly.
Harry nodded and stared at the cup, something didn't seem right. "Hang on,"
said Harry, "if there were seven who died, but you saved one…"
He'd turned to ask Hermione about this when he saw a flash of scorpion tail. It
lashed up and stung Hermione on the neck. She looked down at the bundle in her
arms before she tipped backwards.
Though Harry had his wand out to hex the Manticore, Ron was the one to shout,
"Avada Kedavra!" Harry raced to Hermione's fallen form, but Ron was already
kicking the beast away. He grabbed her and held her tight against him. "St.
Mungo's," he advised Harry before he vanished with a loud crack, taking
Hermione with him.
Harry stared at the small, dead Manticore's child-like face. He should've known
there was a trick; a final, nasty surprise. Of course someone would've heard a
child wailing and run to help. Voldemort never counted on friends.
 
 
He collected the remnants of the cup and sat them on its corpse. He wondered if
he shouldn't take it all with him to St. Mungo's. You never knew what they
might find useful. He grabbed the Virgin bag from his pocket, realizing when he
found it pristine that he hadn't been so much as singed.
Bagging the creature and the cup, he stuffed the shirt itself into his pocket
and Apparated to St. Mungo's.
--
He'd only been there a few hours, but it felt like weeks. Ron finally took a
spot next to Harry, appearing haggard. "She'll pull through. They said it was
good you brought the Manticore in. They have anti-venoms that they could use,
but it's always better to derive it from the actual beast if you can. They say
that makes the recovery faster."
"How long?" Harry sat, staring at the closed door to Hermione's room. He'd gone
in to see her earlier, but he couldn't quite deal with seeing her immobilized
like that, knowing it was his fault. All of those people around her bed in
utter misery, including her parents and Ron? That was his fault, too.
"They say a week, maybe ten days if she got the full brunt of it. They said
she's lucky to be alive after the venom, although since it was a baby, that
helped." Ron rubbed his forehead and then looked at his hands in surprise.
Harry figured he was just now discovering that he wasn't burnt.
"I guess we got the cup from his memory. Back in time? Or maybe like the
Pensieve works? I'm sure Hermione could explain it better." Harry felt another
sharp pang of guilt but tried to ignore it.
"That makes sense. In a weird way. Going back in time and memory, couldn't
really affect someone physically in a memory. I guess that's why we're not
burned up." Ron sat back against the chair and closed his eyes. "There's not
much you can do here. You should probably go back and check on Malfoy."
"I should stay here with my friends." Harry looked determined, but he did feel
worried about Draco.
Ron turned his head and half smiled. "We're your friends, Harry. We'll be your
friends no matter what may come. You know we're with you. Besides," he said,
turning his head back to stare at the ceiling, "there's nothing you can really
do here."
Harry, touched by the words, felt his cheeks flush. He really did have the best
friends anyone could have. "I can be moral support. Besides, everyone I love is
here."
Exhaling, Ron smiled lazily. "Not everyone."
--
I should've worked harder to get them to let me stay, Harry thought as he
popped a few blocks from the house on Spinner's End. He approached it
cautiously, not sure what he'd be walking into, although part of him believed
that to be a bit of paranoia on his part. That is, until he heard the wailing
screams. He knew it wasn't Draco; while the cries sounded similar to Draco's
lazy tenor, it didn't possess the same qualities as Draco's. However, he knew
it was coming from that particular house. He ran the rest of the distance,
stopped by something catching his arm. He felt a cold hand clamp over his face.
"Don't scream, Potter," the now familiar voice drawled.
Harry nodded his acquiescence. When the hand was removed, Harry whirled around
and looked at Draco standing there in his maid's uniform. He frowned and tried
to prevent his gaze from straying from Draco's face. "What's going on?"
"Pettigrew's being tortured." Draco folded his arms and then leaned back
against the tree in an all -too familiar posture of defeat.
"Just Death Eater games or did he do something wrong?" Harry stepped closer and
reached out to touch Draco's arm, pleasantly surprised when the other boy
didn't recoil.
"He refused to go on a raid with them tomorrow night." Draco looked at Harry's
hand on his arm, but said nothing. He just continued to stare.
Harry slid his fingers down Draco's arm to curl his fingers around one of
Draco's hands. "Why would he do that?"
Draco turned his hand out and clasped his fingers around Harry's. "Because I
don't think I can control him from far away with all of that dark magic
floating around."
Nodding, but mostly thrilled that Draco was participating, he let himself
smile. He brought his other hand up and wrapped them both around Draco's to
warm it. "What reason did he give them?"
"That he's scared." Draco allowed Harry to take his hand and then looked up
into his eyes.
"Is he?" Harry looked back at into his eyes.
"He's terrified."
Harry kept holding Draco's hand, but allowed the other arm to slide around his
waist and pulled Draco closer. Draco rested his face against Harry's neck. "He
doesn't have to be scared anymore. He's not alone."
Draco wrapped his arms tightly around Harry and let out a muffled sob. In
return, Harry wrapped his other arm around Draco and patted his back. "Whatever
may come."
Though it only seemed like seconds that they stood there in their embrace, the
darkness that surrounded them told a different story. The front door to Snape's
home opened, spilling warm lamplight into the darkness. The screaming had long
since passed. Harry squinted at the tall robed man, a tuft of blond hair stuck
out from under his hood. He recognized him from the tower battle.
"Oh Maaaaaalfoy," the man hollered.
Draco's arms tightened around Harry briefly and then he pulled back, looking
into Harry's eyes. He gave him a wry smile and then caressed the side of
Harry's face.
Catching his hand to press it against his cheek, Harry whispered, "Stay."
"I can't... my mum." Draco trailed his fingers down Harry's cheek to his neck.
It made Harry shiver, not just from the contact, but with the feeling of an
inevitable and possibly permanent goodbye. "You can't go with them, they'll-
- I'll protect you."
Draco dropped his hand and exhaled, "It's nice to think that you could, but you
really can't."
"Of course I can." Harry grabbed Draco's arm before he could take step away.
"Don't be so arrogant. You can't solve everything. Let me go," Draco whispered
back. He snatched his arm from Harry's grip and turned to leave.
"I AM NOT ARROGANT!" Harry shouted, whirling Draco around to face him.
The Death Eater on the porch drew his wand and peered shiftily in their
direction. "Malfoy?"
Draco grabbed Harry by the front of his shirt and pulled into a last, desperate
kiss before he shoved him away.
Startled, Harry tripped over his feet onto his back. The Death Eater on the
porch and two behind him tore out of the house. Draco started to jog towards
them; petticoat bouncing and flashing Harry the frilly knickers.
All Harry could think was, "No." Before he'd had time to make a real plan, his
wand was out. "Accio Draco." He was surprised to find that it worked to summon
people, but alarmed that the charm had no real sense of when to stop.
"What the hell, Potter?" shrieked Draco as he found himself astride Harry, his
grey eyes distressed.
Harry had to act fast; the Death Eaters were nearly to them, already flinging
hexes blindly in the gloom. He wrapped his arms around Draco and after a loud
pop; they were lying in front of Grimmauld Place.
Draco looked around the Muggle street in horror. "You IDIOT!"
***** Chapter 7 *****
"I am not an idiot!" Harry shouted as he turned towards Grimmauld Place.
Without Dumbledore's Fidelius Charm, it was sitting in plain view between the
shabby Muggle houses; Harry still had yet to adjust to that. He tromped up the
walkway and threw open the door, leaving it for Draco to follow him in.
"You just killed my mother, Potter. I really think 'idiot' is an
understatement." Draco kicked at the troll leg umbrella stand and then glared
at the dank surroundings. "This place is a dump."
Harry ignored the remark and paused to look at the covered portrait. He was
surprised that Mrs Black wasn't screaming her head off. He hoped she'd died.
Can portraits die? He felt slightly guilty at the thought, but there was Draco,
glaring at him. "I didn't kill her. Snape's been trying to move her; he
probably has done it already."
"Snape? Your big hope for my mother is Snape?" Draco shook his head, looking
incredulously at the ceiling. "Have you learned nothing? Snape's not in it for
my mother, for you, or even for me. He does what he does for himself!"
"Is that the philosophy you had when you were mucking around with yourself with
that feather duster?" Harry slapped his hand on the banister and spun himself
around to head down to the kitchen.
Draco followed. "I know you don't think that's about romance. Even you aren't
that dense."
"No, of course not. It's about who can protect you, isn't it? Or is it about
the feather duster?" Harry crossed the kitchen to the cupboard and took out a
butterbeer. Seeing the look on Draco's face, he pulled out another one and
slammed them both on the table. They bubbled over when he opened them, but
Harry didn't care. He took a generous swig.
"Oh yes, I was hoping the feather duster could protect me." Draco pulled his
wand and spelled off the superfluous beer. Under his breath, he said, "You know
very well why I did it. It was good enough for you that night."
"I didn't know you were using me that night." Harry took another gulp and tried
to ignore the pained look on Draco's face.
"Is that what you really-- " Draco looked exasperated to swallowed down a good
portion of the contents of the bottle. "Yeah, you caught me." He slumped at the
table and stared at the drink, sliding his fingers over the bottle.
"I knew it," Harry hissed. His head dropped and he caught sight of the odd lump
the t-shirt created in his clothing. The other gifts he had for Draco were
still at Spinner's End. He felt like a sod for even buying them; sillier still
for never having given them to him. Jerking the shirt out of his pocket, he
threw it at Draco's head.
The shirt landed in his hair and when Draco pulled it off, fine strands of his
hair stuck up. He smoothed his hair back and glared at him. "What is this?"
"A present." Harry finished his butterbeer and headed out the door. He was up
the first couple of steps when he heard the shriek.
"HOW DARE YOU!" Draco shrieked.
Harry whirled around and stared at Draco's furious face. He looked at the table
where the shirt was sitting, spread flat, the Virgin logo large and in green on
a field of black. It wasn't even Gryffindor colors, so he had no idea what
Draco's problem was. "I saw you wearing Muggle clothing," he said, too shocked
to be angry yet.
"FIRST YOU KILL MY MOTHER OUT OF SOME SENSE OF PLAYING HERO AND THEN YOU INSULT
MY VIRGINITY?" Draco lunged forward and grabbed the front of Harry's shirt.
Harry blinked and stared at Draco's fingers gathered in his shirt and then up
at him, trying to imagine how he'd managed to insult Draco's virginity. "I
didn't kill your mother, nor did I insult your virginity. Let go of me. Now."
"Didn't insult my virginity? What is that, then?" Draco pointed at the shirt
and gave Harry a biting glare.
"A shirt... it..." Harry's eyes widened in horror as he realized that Draco
wouldn't know that "Virgin" was a store's name, not an accusation. "No, you've
got... that's... a brand."
"I know it's a brand, a brand of inexperience! I'm just picky. I haven't met
anyone-- and I just-- HOW IS THIS YOUR BUSINESS?" Draco said, pointing his wand
at the shirt.
Harry grabbed Draco's wand hand before he cast anything. "I don't know, why are
you telling me about it?"
"Because you gave me this shirt to take the piss!" Draco twisted his wrist away
and looked murderous.
It was hard for Harry not to laugh. "It's the name of a Muggle CD shop. That's
where I went. It's not-- I wouldn't insult your virginity. I'm one, too."
Draco looked suspicious and eyed the shirt. "Are they all virgins at this seedy
shop?"
"Er, not to my knowledge. But then, I've never asked." Harry crossed his arms,
but smirked as Draco pocketed his wand.
"Why would you name your company something like that if you weren't... one?"
Draco began to neatly fold the shirt but showed no interest in wearing it.
"I really don't know. It's just the shop's name. I never thought much about
it." After a pause, Harry asked, "Why would you be called Draco if you're not
actually a dragon or a constellation?"
"Because I'm brave," Draco said with a lot less irony than was warranted. He
pushed the shirt into his robe pocket and appeared defiant.
"Right then." Somehow, Harry managed to not laugh. "I suppose Muggles are
strange."
"Illogical," Draco corrected. Then he looked around the room as if he'd lost
something. "Potter, where are your annoying friends?"
Harry's body stiffened, but it wasn't fair, Draco didn't know. "St. Mungo's."
--
It took a lot longer to console Draco than Harry had anticipated. He was
shocked that Draco had such an emotional reaction. Then again, he did seem to
get on with Hermione.
Draco had fixed tea for the both of them and then sat in the drawing room. The
tea seemed to soothe Draco's nerves enough to keep glancing at the Black family
tree. A few times he looked as if he might say something, but eventually chose
not to and stood up to be shown to his room.
Harry decided to take Sirius's room as he felt closer to him in there than he
did elsewhere. Without thinking how alike in some ways Draco might be to him,
Harry took Draco to Regulus's room, which was a bit smaller. Draco looked at
him and frowned. "No Lolly."
Harry looked down and nodded. "I'm sorry, Draco."
Looking like he was going to say something again, Draco's expression turned
defeated and he headed into his room, casting several cleansing charms as he
went. Harry watched him look through the wardrobe and set some things out that
appeared to meet with Draco's approval, and then decided to go back to the
drawing room to find a book.
He'd settled down to read one with a fresh cup of tea when someone in long,
silver robes tumbled out of the Floo. Only a lock of pale hair fell out of the
hood of the petite person and under its arm was a brilliantly white stuffed
toy.
Lolly.
Harry stood, ready to shout at Draco for his irresponsibility, thinking that
he'd gone back for his unicorn, when the hood fell back and Harry was
confronted with the haughty sneer of Narcissa Malfoy. He took a step back in
his shock of realization.
"Mr Potter, where is my son?" She didn't look at him at first, but through him,
as she scanned the room, likely looking for Draco.
"He is resting." Harry crossed his arms ready to tell her off if she thought
she was going to make him go back.
"He'll need Lolly, then." She turned and started to the stairs.
Harry grabbed her arm and looked down at her. He was prepared to restrain her
if he had to-- this was his house, after all. "He's not going back."
Narcissa snatched her hand back. "Of course he isn't."
"Then why are you here?" He watched the way her head tilted to the side, the
same way Draco's did when he thought Harry was daft.
"To check on him and to let him know I'm all right." She held up Lolly in a
wordless gesture that she wanted to bring her to him.
The sight of the stuffed toy and realizing that seeing Narcissa would ease
Draco's mind, he backed off a little. "Are you staying here?" Harry let go of
her arm.
"No, I'm going to St Mungo's for 'exhaustion.' Seems a reasonable excuse after
my husband was sent to Azkaban and my son was kidnapped by the Chosen One." She
sneered at Harry and then tossed her hair back so that her pointed chin would
sit higher.
Harry was unimpressed with the gesture and crossed his arms. "Well, Draco's not
making any deals with Snape to save you lot, so you can save your breath if
that's why you're really here. I won't let him go."
Narcissa walked away again, shaking her head. She had almost made it to the
stairs when she stopped and whirled around. "That is not what I want him to do.
That is never what I wanted for him. I will do the unsavoury business myself if
it comes to that. But you," she said jabbing her long, pale finger into his
shoulder, "you will be responsible for him now. You wrenched him out of that
situation and so now you have to take care of him. YOU will not take advantage
of him either, am I clear?"
"Yes." Harry rubbed his shoulder feeling, disconcerted by her implication that
he'd take advantage of anyone.
"This is your fault. Dragging him out to this wasteland," Narcissa said,
tromping up the stairs. "You're reckless and stupid, just like your father."
"You don't know anything about my father!" Did she? Harry mentally berated
himself for knowing so little about his parents questioned as he followed
Narcissa to the landing and up to the one closed door on the floor.
"Oh, I don't, hmm? I bet I know a lot more about James than you do." Narcissa
smirked at how that made Harry pale. "Maybe there's more of an attraction to
blondes than there is to redheads in the Potter family line." She went to the
door and was about to open it when Harry ran up and grabbed her hand to stop
her.
"What does that mean?"
Narcissa turned and looked up at him, her lips curled in the corners of her
sneer. "What do you think it means?"
Harry stared down at her in shock. "You... and my father?"
She perked a brow, letting her expression turn to a minxy deviousness. Narcissa
then turned the knob and pushed open the door.
Shocked beyond his ability speak, Harry watched Narcissa slither into Draco's
room. He heard Draco's excited gasp of "Mum!" just before the door shut.
Narcissa Malfoy had fancied his father. It was hard to reconcile that with
everything that he'd known up until now, or so he thought at first. Then again,
he realized that his father was a star Quidditch player and had been quite
popular-- and a Pureblood. It made sense in a way that he didn't ever want to
think about again.
Yet, as he wearily made his way to Sirius's old room, it was all he could think
about. What if he'd been the son of Narcissa and James Potter? Would all of
this have happened? Would he be more like Draco?
The thoughts swirled in his mind as he brushed his teeth, looking into his
brilliant green eyes. Those came from his mother. There seemed to be a certain
symmetry to his attraction to Draco now that he had this knowledge. He wondered
how much his father fancied Narcissa back.
Knowing so little about his parents often proved frustrating in times like
this. He couldn't argue against the revelation; he had no proof either way.
While he understood that it didn't really matter who fancied whom, he felt as
if some part of his fantasy parents had been lost. Of course they'd dated other
people. He knew his mother couldn't stand his father in their fifth year.
Soon, his meandering thoughts systematically shut down as he began to spiral
off into sleep. Pondering whether his father really did have a taste for
blondes, he succumbed.
--
The next morning, Harry awoke to the zealous sweet smell of treacle that
permeated the house emanating, he figured, from the kitchen. He didn't even
bother to dress, expecting that it meant that Molly Weasley had arrived and
skittered down the stairs. He paused at the uncovering of Mrs Black's portrait.
The woman was standing frozen with a horrendous scowl on her face and an
accusatory finger sticking out. Her eyes were wild, but she did not move.
Rather, she was frozen like any Muggle picture. He rushed down to the kitchen.
Draco was surly, sitting up stock-straight with his hair slicked back and his
robes prim and stiff. Narcissa appeared to be in the midst of some manner of
lecture as two house-elves prepared more griddle cakes and sausage than Harry
thought they could rightly eat in a week. "You will not let anyone know that
you can cook, it's distasteful to do house-elf work, Draco," she said, flitting
around the kitchen to observe the elves.
Harry fancied he could hear Draco's teeth grinding as he bit back his trademark
nasty snark in honor of his mother. It was quite amusing. Harry was just about
to take a seat when Narcissa tsked him. "No, no, young man. You have your
shower and brush your teeth before you sit down to a meal."
"But I--"
Narcissa pointed at the stairs and snapped her fingers. Draco sneered.
Though he knew he wouldn't be able to touch the sumptuous-smelling food until
he'd properly bathed, he had a question he was dying to ask. "How did you get
Mrs Black... like that?"
Tossing back her hair, she let out a weary sigh. "Black family secret. We all
have those sorts of portraits in our homes; the Black family is old and quite
outspoken. If you don't know the proper charm, they'll be nattering on about
everything all day every day."
"Sirius didn't know it." Up till now, Harry had all but forgotten that Narcissa
was the one who helped get Sirius killed via information from Kreacher. He
tried to rationalize that she had no choice-- it was easier to tolerate her
presence that way.
"The Black family could be rather provincial when it came to teaching charms
such as that. It was considered house maintenance, which would fall to the
women. Wards fell to the men, I'm sure he had this place secured," she said,
turning her back on him again to watch the elves serve Draco.
"Did you... like Sirius?" Harry didn't know why he asked, it was part of the
unchangeable past. It didn't matter now.
"No, I didn't." She sat down in front of Draco who was looking between them
with an expression of alarm.
Harry crossed his arms. "Why not?"
Narcissa was pensive, like she wanted to say something, but decided against it.
"Because he didn't like me. Go have a shower. I'm leaving after breakfast. I
don't want to waste my time talking with you about my cousin's possessiveness
over your father. Shoo." With that, she spread the napkin over her lap and
started to eat, brooking no further debate.
Turning, Harry headed back upstairs.
--
Narcissa's departure was anticlimactic. Harry expected tears or hysteria from
Draco, but all he got was a wary relief and a quiet assurance that she would
owl him once she was safe. She also promised to check on Hermione and Ron, but
the tenor of her words didn't fill Harry with much hope that she'd remember. He
was surprised when Draco's owl brought news that Hermione was awake, but not
yet speaking.
"I think this occasion calls for butterbeer, don't you?" Draco flopped back on
the chair in the drawing room and held out his hand as one of the house-elves
Narcissa left brought it to him. He pitched his to Harry and held his hand out
for another, which the second brought.
"She's not talking." Harry opened the butterbeer and sipped. He felt like a bad
friend for not being there when she woke, but at least Draco seemed cheered.
Draco took a long slug. "She will," he said as he undid the stiff mandarin
collar. At least now he didn't look like a vicar. "She'll be back and ticked
off in no time." He took another long drink.
Harry nodded, exhaling a bit more of his tension as he tried to catch up with
Draco's consumption. "You're right. It hasn't been long. They're brilliant
healers there. Now you're mum's there and safe as well."
Brightening, Draco nodded. "Father's safe, she's safe, I'm mostly safe. Now I
just have to deal with you."
The way Draco grinned wasn't quite as snide as it probably should have. Harry
tilted his head and finished off the butterbeer and held his hand out for
another. "Well, I guess life can't be perfect."
Shrugging, Draco finished his and demanded another. "What was that muck about
Sirius downstairs? I didn't have them set for being close, but that sounded
odd. Did she know your father?"
"It seems that way." Harry opened his fresh bottle and took a few gulps.
Draco didn't notice Harry's discomfort. "Mum told me that I should try and help
you, back in school. I did, sometimes. Told you things you were too dense to
catch on to. Sent that daft elf Dobby over to warn you, but did you heed it? Of
course not." Draco rolled his eyes and drank again.
Harry's eyes widened. He remembered the twins saying that house-elves couldn't
just leave the house on a whim. Draco had been sending him out to protect him?
"I... er... I don't know how to respond to that."
Draco prattled on unfazed by Harry's bewilderment, "He almost killed you. To be
honest, I figured it would work out for me either way." Draco took another
drink and found the end of the bottle yet again. His head bobbed in the nod of
the properly tipsy.
"Well, I almost killed you, too." Harry pointed out. Not wanting to focus on
that unfortunate and bloody incident, he ironically babbled, "Bloody followed
you around the bloody castle while you were being a bloody ponce." Finished
with his bottle, he slammed it down on the stand beside him.
They were both brought another bottle each.
"You bloody loved following me around. You were checking my arse out. If not
then, then you were definitely were doing it all over Spinner's End." Draco
took another gulp but didn't look at all fussed about Harry looking at his
arse.
Harry giggled and shook his head. "You were running around like a nancy in that
tutu-- bending over in the frilly knickers for all to see."
"You loved it," Draco retorted in a slur. He blushed at his nerve as he looked
into the bottle, measuring how much was left. Another was served before he
asked for it.
"I'd never seen anything like it." Harry set his down. He was dizzy enough.
Draco finished his bottle and took the next one. "You're not going to again,
either. Pettigrew's probably dead. I'll be lucky not to be dead by the end of
this. Sod it, you'll be lucky not to be topped off eventually."
Harry didn't want to think about who may or may not die. He certainly didn't
want to focus on his own death, so he changed the subject. "I vowed the other
night you wouldn't have to wear that again."
"Even though you like it?" Draco stared at the bottle sitting between his legs,
wetting the black brocade.
Looking away, Harry tried to be honest. "I don't like seeing you humiliated."
"That's new." Draco continued to stare at the bottle.
Harry took a moment and perked a brow. "So why did you wear it when you didn't
have to?" He regretted it the moment he'd asked it; Draco's response could
crush him.
The general gloom of Grimmauld place surrounded the boys, but Draco's paleness
brought his features into a sparse relief. He looked at the fireplace and then
brought the bottle to his lips. After a moment of intense concentration, he
answered, "I liked the way you looked at me."
That was not the answer Harry was expecting. It was the answer he wanted; he
just never dreamed he'd hear it. "You wanted protection," he tried to correct.
Draco waved his hand. "That was later and beside the point. I was scared and
being dramatic."
"What did you want from me, then?"
Closing his eyes, Draco rested his head on the back of the couch and drank the
last of the butterbeer and set it down. "For you to tell me it was going to be
all right."
"You could've just asked," said Harry as he pushed the empties to the house-
elves and crossed to sit next to Draco.
"That lacks drama." Draco leaned in to Harry's open arms and rested his
forehead against his shoulder and sighed.
"I have enough drama, Draco." He slid his fingers through his hair and closed
his eyes.
Draco tilted his head up and he looked blearily at Harry. Their faces were mere
inches apart as they gazed into one another's eyes. First their noses brushed,
nuzzling from their drunken lack of balance. Each choosing a side, their lips
met. Harry could feel Draco's breath warming over his lips and cheek. They had
just managed to part their lips and touch the pointed tips of their delicately
warm tongues when the stone fireplace seemed to explode twice.
The abrupt noises caused Harry to leap from their embrace. He trained his wand
on the wreckage of their open trunks. Their belongings were strewn liberally
over the floor in large clumps of clothing and toiletries. This had the
hallmark of a gift from Snape. Harry wondered if he opened them on the other
side just to humiliate him by having Draco observe his frayed pants. The poetic
justice of it seemed terribly unfair.
Whatever Harry's concerns about what Draco might think of his undergarments,
they were quickly dismissed as Draco had yanked up a fuchsia gift bag from
Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. Opening it, Draco pulled out the edible Dark Marks
and the prank feather duster. Giving Harry a withering look, he asked, "Are
these for me?"
"I thought... they were sort of funny... at the time. They seem less...
amusing... now." Harry tried to grab them back, but Draco pulled them against
his chest.
"Let me tally this up, Potter. First, you buy me a shirt that proclaims my
virginity, then candies that mock my very real danger and to top it all off,
you add a symbol of my humiliation," Draco face was expressionless, "And these
are your gifts to me?"
Harry nodded weakly.
"You're a git." Draco rolled his eyes but popped a Dark Mark in his mouth and
handed one to Harry. "You should've gotten Chocolate Frogs."
The Marks tasted like liquorice and Harry didn't care for them. While he was
looking for somewhere to spit them out, he saw Draco pocket the feather duster
in the reflection of the glass cases. Harry grinned.
***** Chapter 8 *****
It was a few strokes before midnight when the howling started. Harry shifted
uneasily in his bed, recounting how Snape had cryptically warned them earlier
in the day that this might happen. Fenrir and his cadre of werewolves planned
to attack the house. Relying on the knowledge that Sirius's father had placed
every kind of ward and protection on Grimmauld Place, Harry tried not to worry
as he listened to the conflicting and terrible baying of preternatural beasts.
The racket was so intense that Harry missed the creak of his door opening.
"Harry?" Draco's moonlit hair shone almost brighter than Lolly's as he shifted
his weight from foot to foot in the dark frame of the door. As a fresh bout of
unearthly screaming threatened to shake the house, his pointed face tilted
upwards and towards the window, illuminating his fearful expression.
Harry wasn't sure he'd ever seen anyone look so scared, broken or beautiful in
his life. He sat up, unable to tear his gaze from him. "Yes?"
The steps Draco took shadowed his face again, but Harry watched his progress
across the room till he was standing next to the bed. Draco looked back at the
window again. From this vantage, Harry could see the soft strands of pale hair
trembling. Harry reached out to Lolly and tugged her gently as he scooted back.
He pulled the covers back in an invitation that Draco took, kicking out of his
slippers before kneeling on the bed.
A particularly piercing gale of shrieks made Draco jump. Harry reached for
Draco, smoothing his hair down. He slid his thumb along his jaw line to turn
Draco to face him. "It's all right, Draco. They can't get in."
Draco's expression hardened before it turned to fear as a throaty howl tore
through the night. "Fenrir," he whispered.
Harry hadn't spent enough time with Fenrir to know what he sounded like. He
wasn't sure he could even pick Remus's call out from the rest. It made him
wonder how much time Draco had spent with Fenrir. He recalled that Draco had
been none too happy with seeing the man on the tower that night. "Sirius said
his father put every imaginable ward on this place. They won't get in."
Poking his wand up from his chest behind Lolly, Draco said, "I know a lot of
hexes if they do get in. Ever since Snape said that Lupin was one...." His head
jerked towards the window again as a fresh chorus of baying began.
"Then we'll definitely be fine." Noticing that Draco wasn't settling into bed,
Harry dropped his hand and wiggled into the covers, the movement pulled his
night shirt up, exposing some of his belly over his pyjama pants. He didn't
realize how placating that sounded until he caught Draco's suspicious glare. "I
don't know any hexes like that. I'm glad that you do."
Draco relented and slid his legs under the covers, still clutching his wand and
Lolly to his chest. "I know a lot of dark magic, you know."
"I don't doubt that." Harry watched Draco's expression turn to a more familiar
haughtiness and he bit back the urge to grin at his puffing himself up. "I'll
rest easier knowing you're going to take care of me, then."
"Are you taking the mickey?" Draco looked guarded, but just then inhaled some
of Lolly's mane and sputtered. He pushed her away and looked quite fussy before
another loud shout broke him out of his irritation and back to fear.
Harry took Lolly from Draco and set her up higher on the pillows over their
heads and reached out to him. "No, actually I was going to go to your room. The
howling is rather creepy, isn't it?" He congratulated himself on accurately
navigating Draco's defenses when he was allowed to embrace the other boy.
"Well, I don't want you to be scared," said Draco, tucking in closer to Harry.
"I feel much better now." Exhaling, Harry knew he really meant it, but not for
the reasons that Draco believed. He'd thought about their kiss in the drawing
room to the point of distraction. The brush of soft lips, the feel of Draco's
hair tickling his cheek, the smell of him, almost musky, but light-- the faded
smell of his soap and perspiration.
Draco's body leaned closer to Harry's pressing against him in an awkward jut of
bony bodies that was somehow comforting against the noisy tenebrous night.
There was something so thrilling about holding Draco this way, knowing that he
was comforting him back, feeling his breath hot on his neck and his fingers
curling around the back of his nightshirt. Harry felt needed. Sure, the
Wizarding world needed him to defeat Voldemort, but this was so much more
personal; being needed by one person, and not for his power, but for personal
comfort.
He was just starting to really relax into the holding when he felt a spark, a
shift in Draco's position that caused his hip to slide against his cock. It
triggered a terrifyingly slow chain reaction in his body as he relived the
closeness, the kissing, and the intimacy of being this close to someone else,
someone he desired-- someone he'd seen in those fishnets and-- Harry shifted
his hips back. In reaction, Draco's hands clutched his shirt and he wriggled
closer again, driving his hip against Harry's now nearly full erection.
Draco froze.
Squeezing his eyes shut, Harry steeled himself for the conniption. His cheeks
were flush with anticipatory humiliation as he waited. He berated himself for
getting hard at such an odd time, with wolves literally at the door. What kind
of a horny freak was he?
But Draco did not move. In fact, he was fairly certain that Draco's breath had
stopped. Screwing up his Gryffindor courage, he opened one eye. Draco's face
was pinched up in expectation of shouting. Harry cleared his throat.
The look on Draco's face when he opened his eyes was unreadable between fear
and curiosity. Neither boy noticed that the howling was waning, their gazes
were fixed on one another before Draco finally averted his eyes and leaned back
against Harry.
Just about to breathe a sigh of relief, Harry found himself gasping as Draco's
hip brushed against him again, this time more firmly. He tightened his arms
around Draco, not sure what else to do. Again, Draco's body dragged against him
and Harry tentatively pressed his own hips forward in weak response.
All motion stilled a moment and Harry experienced a sheer moment of terror
thinking he was a complete pervert who had read Draco wrong. Then the pressure
resumed, paused as he felt Draco shift, and then he felt something firmer than
a hip slide next to his cock.
Harry wanted desperately to say something, to ask a question or to just stop
and make sure that this was really happening, but aside from not having any
words come to mind, he was scared that it would make Draco stop. The feeling of
Draco's hands on his lower back as they both worked out a responsive rhythm
between them made his pulse race and his eyelids flutter.
Just knowing that he'd elicited this same response from Draco was nearly enough
to make him come, but the fact that they were doing this together, frotting in
bed, against one another, made it hard to focus. His cock strained against his
flannel pants, sticking at the tip from his precome. The soft whimpers and
needy breaths coming from Draco drowned out everything else, and Harry forced
his eyes open to peer at the blissfully bunched expression on Draco's face.
He felt Draco shuddering first, and he moved his hands to the other boy's hips
to hold him steady as he thrust harder against him, the select pieces of
material sliding between them. He could feel the warmth of Draco's come making
his pyjamas soggy, and that final stimulation made him lose all focus, his body
quivering with the final expulsion. His breathing came out in sharp, punctuated
pants against the side of Draco's sated face.
Though he tried to look at Draco, his eyes were shut, and it was evident he
didn't want to talk, but just to rest. Harry's stomach knotted with worry that
Draco would deny it all in the morning, but his persistent staring did nothing
to make Draco look back at him. As the hour grew late, Harry faded, hoping for
the best when they awoke.
--
It was predictable that Draco wasn't in the bed the next morning. Harry found
his belly cleaned of all evidence of their debauchery and the hall smelled
heavily of Draco's soap. He tried to prepare himself for Draco to give him the
brush off or hide from him all day. What he didn't expect was to bumble into
the kitchen to find Draco eating breakfast and reading a scroll as if nothing
had happened. He didn't look up when Harry entered, but said, "Mum visited
Granger and says that she's fine, but that she's driving the staff of St.
Mungo's nutters with all of her questions." Draco gave the note a wry grin as
he finished reading. By the end of it, his smile was sincere and open.
"What else did she say?" Harry crossed to Draco, trying to peek as the note
rolled back up and Draco pocketed it.
Draco smirked at him in a way that made Harry suddenly feel rather dirty. "That
you're a nosy snitch who wants to read private communication."
Harry rubbed his hand through his hair and blushed, averting his eyes as he
took a seat at the table, helping himself to some of the eggs. "You looked
happy. I was curious."
"She's safe."
The answer was simple enough to ring true and Harry had little doubt that was
what had caused Draco's happiness, although he'd have liked to believe he had
something to do with it. "So it looks like I didn't bung it up so badly."
"You were lucky." It was the response Harry had anticipated, but not the voice.
Harry followed Draco's gaze to the kitchen's fireplace where Snape was looking
at them expectantly. "Malfoy, I hardly remembered what you looked like when not
in a dress."
Draco looked down, the corner of his lip twitched as if he were holding back a
scathing retort.
Harry stepped up, "Seems you were so caught up in his clothing, you forgot for
a moment he was a boy."
"I wasn't the only one." Snape's reply came quickly. His awkward expression
revealed that he regretted saying it. Draco shifted his feet, breaking the
silence with the scraping of his shoe. "In any case, I received word that Miss
Granger is on the road to recovery and Mrs Malfoy is safe although rather put
out by the inconvenience."
Clearing his throat, Draco said, "Actually, one of the healers is one of her
old dorm mates and that they've had a lovely time catching up."
Snape narrowed his eyes at Draco, who looked down. "In any case, I am no closer
now to finding out what the final two Horcruxes are than I was before, mostly
because I haven't had the time as I've been trying to cover up the mess you've
made, Potter."
Harry gave an apathetic nod. He flopped onto the decrepit couch and placed both
hands over his face. "Right, right. So very unwise, I get it. Come back when
you have some news."
"I do not have to help you, Potter, I'm doing so out of my own..."
"Your own what? Your own fear?" Harry sat up and glared at the fireplace.
The fireplace glowed red, showing that Snape had left, but then it flashed
green on his return. "I'm not going to dignify that with an answer. I was going
to ask if you needed food, but I sincerely hope you starve." That said; he was
truly gone this time.
"His heart's going to break when he finds out Mrs Weasley's cooking for us,"
said Harry.
Draco didn't respond, just kept staring into the empty fire.
--
"I wonder if goading Snape is really the prudent option," Draco said over
dinner. He'd complained about rewarming charms, but the first bite of the
succulent, flaky crust of the Shepherd's pie quelled his protest.
"It probably isn't, but no one's really accused me of prudence before." Harry
swished his pumpkin juice as if it were wine, mimicking Draco's movements. His
table manners were lacking, Draco had complained, so Harry was attempting to do
it right, even if he felt like a ponce doing it.
"Fair enough." Draco nodded to Harry's swishing in encouragement. "I suppose
that taunting cold blooded killers is your full-time occupation."
"Something I was born to do," Harry muttered, bemoaning his fate. "Hang on; you
don't believe there was a prior plan with Dumbledore?"
Draco gazed at the dark doorway with the stairs that led to the entry hall.
After a few moments of thought, he shook his head. "I don't really know. Mum's
afraid of him. She says that You-Know-Who is afraid of him as well." He nodded
to Harry's incredulous expression. "It wouldn't surprise me at all to find that
he was playing both sides to the middle to try and come out on top."
"Why would you say that?" Harry found that he was no longer hungry and shoved
the half pie away from him.
"It's... more of a feeling than anything else-- that and his plans to be
headmaster of Hogwarts someday. He said that to me a few times, you know? Now
Dumbledore's out of the way. You-Know-Who would probably want to run it if what
my father said about his obsession with the school was true. So, he'd have to
go, too. It makes sense in a warped, Snape sort of way." Draco also pushed his
plate aside and he looked around the kitchen before pulling his wand to clear
away the dishes.
Harry never really trusted Snape, but he couldn't put his finger on why. "I
wonder how good his information is going to be given what he wants and well..."
Harry gestured to extend his speech and Draco stood up from the table.
"In spite of what he may or may not want, if he wants You-Know-Who out of the
way, then his information should be good." He started to leave and Harry
worried that he'd offended him.
Grabbing Draco's arm, Harry stood and stopped him. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean
to... bring up... or insult Snape..."
"I'm just tired, Harry. We should go to bed." Draco pulled his arm away and
started up the kitchen stairs. Harry followed.
"But we're not done discussing this."
"We can talk about it in your room."
Harry was shocked. Certainly Draco couldn't mean what it sounded like. All day
he'd acted as if nothing had happened the night before, but Draco's words made
it sound as if he'd intended to stay the night in his room. Trying not to get
his hopes up, he followed.
Draco veered off to his own room and Harry exhaled. It was a foolish thought,
but he found that he had hoped for a different result. Sighing, he went to his
trunk and pulled out his pyjamas. He was still changing into them when Draco
entered the room as if he owned it. Lolly had been left on Harry's bed, so
Harry wasn't surprised that Draco made a beeline for her.
Then Draco turned back the covers and slid in. "Insult Snape all you want," he
said, rolling over onto his side as Harry scrambled to finish buttoning up his
night shirt. "Ever since that... well, since Dumbledore died... he's acted as
if he owns me." He paused and stared back at Harry who was still gobsmacked
that Draco had just hopped into his bed.
Though they'd shared a bed before; now they didn't have to. He wondered if
Draco intended for them to do what they'd done the night before, but his ramble
about their prior conversation made it sound more friendly than erotic. Still,
the notion of what had happened was enough to keep Harry distracted from the
conversation. Had he told Draco anything about that night? That he'd been
there? He couldn't recall telling Draco about the Horcrux that wasn't, the
replacement locket with the cryptic note inside. "The problem is," he said as
he crossed to the bed and got in on the other side, "we don't have other
options. Although... well, supposedly there's some R. A. B. character that
doesn't seem to care for Voldemort."
Draco flinched that the use of that name, but his brows went up. "Someone...
inside?"
"I guess he is, yeah. He actually... well, it's a long story, but basically he
got to one of the Horcruxes before I did and left a note for Voldemort." Harry
turned on his side and Draco rolled over to face him.
"Someone else seeking out Horcruxes? But none of the others have come up with
notes?" Draco scooted a little closer and Harry caressed Draco's arm.
"No, no other notes. To be honest, I'm thinking he's dead. I don't suppose you
can cross Voldemort like that and get away with it."
That notion sparked something in Draco, as his eyes reflected something
registering. "You know, I bet he is dead. But I think you know who he is."
"I don't. I don't know who half of those Death Eaters who attacked Hogwarts
are." He didn't like Draco's self-satisfied sneer.
"Please, Potter. You mean you hung about with Sirius Black, live in his home,
and you haven't sussed out who R. A. B. might be? Have you looked at the family
tree?" Draco scoffed at Harry's puzzled look. "Regulus Black. Sirius's brother.
It would make sense. He was a talented wizard by my mum's accounts. She never
knew why he was murdered. Betrayal would definitely do it. "
"I didn't know his middle name?" Harry offered lamely.
Draco sat up and grabbed Harry's wrist. He tugged them to the drawing room
where the Black family tree tapestry hung. He followed the family line until he
found Regulus's name next to the scorch mark of what was presumably Sirius's
name. Tapping it with an elegantly poised finger, Draco said, "Atilius. Regulus
Atilius Black."
--
Evidently, solving the mystery of who R.A.B. was had been so tiring, that Draco
did not repeat his performance the night before, a fact that Harry found quite
disappointing. He went over the way they'd fallen asleep and concluded that he
probably should have pretended to be afraid of something to give Draco a reason
to cling to him. Tonight, there would be ghost stories before bedtime.
He polished off the last of the leftover Shepherd's pie and wandered to the
drawing room where Draco was finishing up a letter, presumably to his mother.
Taking a seat next to where Draco had set the fire, he thought about how he
could've missed R.A.B. being the initials of someone related to his godfather.
Granted, Draco was a clever boy. The planning that it took to get the Death
Eaters into the school alone showed cleverness. But he wasn't exactly Hermione.
Then again, he was rather aware of bloodlines and much savvier as to who was a
Death Eater and who wasn't.
The fluttering of wings caught his attention and he watched the bird shrink
into the sky, trailing the precious letter from Draco to his mum. "Do you think
it's wise?"
Draco whirled around and looked at Harry after shutting the window. "Is what
wise?"
"Sending so many letters?"
"I don't see you easing off on missives to your compatriots."
The defensiveness made Harry relent, conceding the point that they were both
guilty of taking their fortification for granted. He exhaled, his mind
scrambling for something to say. He went around in a full circle, thinking
abstractly that there wasn't anything for dinner then to the letter and again
to R.A.B. which led inevitably to the topic of why they hadn't messed around
the night before. He eyed Draco, who had taken the spot across from him in
front of the fire. It was right on the tip of his tongue to ask when there was
a loud bang that signified the door flying open and the loud humming of Molly
Weasley crashing in. "Hullooo... anyone home? Oh, good show on Mrs Black."
Draco rolled his eyes and pushed up from the armchair. "That's my cue. Let me
know when she leaves."
Harry frowned at being left alone with Molly, but he supposed that Draco
antagonizing her would be worse. He headed down to the kitchen where Molly was
unpacking prepared food and setting it into the cupboard. It was all charmed to
remain fresh as it was when she finished making it. She set out a plate of
biscuits for Harry.
"I see young Mr Malfoy has decided against gracing us with his presence."
Grabbing for a biscuit, Harry frowned. "He was tired."
"I'm sure." She smiled to show that it didn't vex her in the least. "Hermione
will be at St. Mungo's for just a few more days. Ron wonders if you'd like him
to come back."
Again Ron was posing that question, which Harry recognized as needling about
how things were going with Draco. He wondered if Molly was trying to ask that
same question. Remembering the weird night with Ginny, he figured she had to
know. "No, he should stay with Hermione. It's fine here." His eyes dropped to
the biscuits, he didn't want to see the look on her face if she did understand
that subtle code.
After a moment's silence, she spoke, "Harry, about the other night-- I've been
meaning to speak to you about Ginny and all of..."
"I don't want to--"
Molly held up her hand for silence, and Harry stopped. "She's very young,
Harry, as are you. I don't know what you have going on in your life but-- well,
most boys your age don't really know what they want as far as that goes. But
you're not most boys. I just want you to know that no matter how you feel about
whom; you are always welcome at the Weasley table."
Harry looked at her, his eyes wide and his smile bright. He stood from the
table and wrapped his arms around her, thrilled that he really did have family.
--
By the time he'd looked up from the chessboard, it was in the early hours of
the morning. He'd been having so much fun listening to gossip about Order
members from Molly, that he'd completely lost track of the time.
Seeing her off, he ran upstairs to find Draco already asleep clutching Lolly.
He sighed. No fondling tonight either. Harry changed into his night clothes and
spooned behind Draco. His arm wrapped around his waist, fingers slipped past
the gap in the buttons to brush against his skin.
Draco moaned softly and wiggled against Harry. The brush of arse made Harry
whimper in response-- and Draco did it again. Harry pressed his nose against
Draco's hair, smelling the citrus tang of his conditioner and feeling the
silken strands on his face. He was nervous, he didn't want to stop Draco's
grinding against him, but he wanted to... touch him.
The soft moans and sighs only served to embolden Harry as he fished his hand
out of Draco's shirt and started to tease along the drawstring band of his
pyjama pants. Draco sucked in his stomach in response to the touches. Nervous
muscles shied away from Harry's tender stroking as he stroked a tentative
finger over a wet spot on the material and then down over the rigid shaft of
Malfoy's silk-covered erection.
Draco pushed back harder against Harry, grinding more deeply and Harry's cock
found a soft space between his cheeks. Harry pushed his other hand under Draco
and gripped his hip to hold him better in place for frotting against. The
arousal and the headiness were too much to keep Harry's curious hand from
Draco's cock. He bypassed the waistband and it dug into the back of his wrist.
The feel of Draco's cock was almost velveteen, the softest skin that he'd ever
touched, including his own. His cock seemed to bend a slightly different way
than his own, but it filled his palm and his thumb brushed over the tip. He was
fascinated by even just touching it; exploring this new part of Draco. He
wished he could see it, but he knew as certain as anything that being greedy
would stop this-- and he desperately didn't want that to happen.
He pressed soft kisses against the side of Draco's neck as their bodies
expanded and contracted together. His hand wrapped around Draco and they
increased their speed. Harry imagined what it would be like to actually be
inside of Draco, to hear these moans coming from him like this, for them to
actually be completely naked, touching one another, feeling their hot, wet skin
slapping together. His face was starting to break out into a sweat and his body
trembling. He could hear the loud gasps from Draco-- a sound he was still
learning that signified his climax. After a beat, he felt warmth around his
hand, and he used it to continue pulling more on Draco, loving the slick
wetness between them as their clothes stuck, increasing the friction. He pushed
his hips forward more insistently, feeling the last bits of hesitancy falling
away before he gave way to it, his mouth open and Draco's name breathy from his
lips as he came against his back.
In that position, they slept.
--
The next morning, Harry awoke to loud crashing and banging and flashes of
magical light. He was up out of the bed with his wand at the ready in a flash
and raced over to Draco's room. As Draco had slept in bed with him the night
before, he didn't expect to find him in this room waving his wand. The air was
heavy with humidity and the scent of Draco's body wash. His hair was still in
wet tendrils around his head and he was holding a cup of tea, giving the
impression that he'd woken up, bathed, started tea and then calmly proceeded to
destroy his living quarters.
"What?" crash "Are." bang "You doing?" tear
Draco looked up in surprise and paused his wand. He finished his cup of tea and
handed it to Harry. "Good morning. Fill that, would you?"
Before Harry could protest that he was not a house-elf, a house-elf swiped the
cup from him and returned it filled with Earl Grey.
"Lovely, thanks." Draco took a sip and white light began shooting from his
wand, upturning the dresser, which spilled out its contents. The light traced
over each object systematically and dropped it. Harry was about to reassert
that he had no idea what Draco was doing when an otherwise average bundle of
socks exploded into pink goo and then splattered on the floor. Draco wrinkled
his nose. "I hate when that happens."
"Yes, it's tragic," said Harry. "What are we talking about?"
"I'm looking for something."
Recasting the spell, they watched the rest of the items in the dresser come up
for magical examination and pass. Or fail. Harry wasn't sure. "Fair enough. Did
you lose something?"
Sighing as if he were very put upon, Draco flipped one hand to his waist and
ceased his spell casting. "No, I didn't lose anything. It's not like I came
here with a lot, did I?" Harry shrugged at him; he didn't take inventory, so
what did he know? "I sent a letter out to my mum this morning about Regulus, to
see if she knew anything about him."
"Did you--"
"No, I didn't tell her anything." Draco waved his hand at Harry to ward off
further interruption. "In any case, she mentioned that when he was younger she
knew he had a journal. Since this is his room, I thought it might be here."
"Did you consider maybe going through the drawers by hand?" Harry looked at the
wreckage-- overturned chairs, mattress askew, the wardrobe was open and tipped
to its side. Even the curtains were off the window and crumpled in a heap
across the box springs.
Draco looked at Harry pityingly. "No. Why would I do that? Besides, it's likely
to have magic on it and I'd rather not end up a pile of goo or magic addled."
At Harry's questioning look, he said, "Regulus was quite the wizard, evidently.
If he didn't want a snoop like say, Sirius, going through his things, he'd
probably put a load of protections on his possessions, right?"
Harry looked at the pile of goo and back to Draco. "But the socks?"
"Probably was something else he was trying to hide. I don't even want to
speculate what a teenaged boy would want with bundled socks."
"Right." Harry's eyes widened and suddenly he wondered just how kinky a wizard
could be getting with his footwear. Draco was right, he didn't want to
speculate. "Hang on, do you mean a journal like Tom Riddle's?"
"Could be. I'm not sure. There's no guarantee it would really have any useable
information in it or if he'd even have it here. Not even Mum knows what all
happened other than Regulus had second thoughts and a few days later You-Know-
Who had him killed." Draco looked around the room. His expression was bland
given the carnage he was taking in. "If he still kept a journal, it might've
been with him, or someplace he was staying. I don't know who would have that
kind of information, though."
Harry nodded as he tried to think of who would know that kind of information.
Sirius came to mind immediately, but being dead, he wouldn't be much help.
Remus, maybe, if they could get a hold of him. He could owl Tonks, maybe she
could find him. He was deep in thought when Draco said, "Oh, owls came for you
from Granger and Weasley."
Taking them, Harry righted the bed and had a seat. He glanced at Ron's note,
which had little on it other than to say that they'd be home in the next couple
of days and that he shouldn't be doing anything he wouldn't do.
He was about to open Hermione's missive when Draco interrupted, "Oh, and Mum
said that there was some sort of Black family heirloom-- a pair of mirrors
where people could talk to one another-- that should be around here. She
thought it would be nice if she and I could have those to talk to while she's
at St. Mungo's."
The mirrors. Harry sighed, not sure what to say to Draco about that. Not only
did he only have one-- he'd broken it in a fit of rage at the end of fifth
year. Back when he was so into breaking things. Gearing up with a long intake
of breath, he admitted, "I have one of them."
Draco looked at Harry, his brows raised and his hand rotating to encourage
Harry to finish his thought. "I don't know where the other one is. I thought
Sirius had it... but then... well, the veil made him vanish and, er... I
haven't seen it around here, but we could look?"
"Have you tried speaking through the mirror to see if you can talk to Sirius
from beyond?"
Hoping to avoid admitting his foolish destruction, he tried, "Draco, don't
be... that's impossible."
"Actually, it's not impossible at all. If he had the mirror, there is always a
chance. Bring it to me." Draco took a seat next to Harry and gave him nudge.
"Well, see... that's the thing." Harry stood and pushed his glasses up his nose
before nervously ruffling his hair. "I did try and speak to him, but when he
didn't respond... I er... got angry."
"Yes, of course you did. You're very," Draco cast his hand around as if he
could catch the adjective from the air, "volatile."
Harry gave Draco a look. As far as he was concerned, he had a right to be
volatile. His godfather had just been killed in front of him and he had found
out he was going up against a foe and it had been destined and... well everyone
knows that story. "I broke the mirror."
"...and do you still have it?"
"It should be in my trunk." He let Draco guide him from Regulus's room to
Sirius's room. Draco didn't seem alarmed that the mirror was broken, which gave
Harry some hope that it might be repaired. To what end, he wasn't sure. He'd
called for Sirius already and he didn't answer. That was that.
Harry knelt before his trunk and opened it. He blushed at Draco's observation
the untidy arrangement of his clothing, books and miscellany as the other boy
knelt next to him. In the corner of the trunk was the frame of the mirror. A
few shards still hung to the silvery edge. He looked up at Draco and shook his
head as he handed the broken metal over.
The dull mirror backing looked ordinary to Harry, but as Draco slid his fingers
along the side, he realized that towards the bottom was a tiny, carved capital
G. He was about to make a remark about it when Draco tapped his wand to the
jagged glass and said, "Reparo."
Somehow, Harry was let down that the mirror was fixed with such an elementary
spell. Certainly something with such powerful magic should require something a
bit more sophisticated to fix it. But there it was, Sirius's mirror in perfect
condition, reflecting Harry's cynical countenance. He took the proffered
mirror.
"Call for him." Draco folded his arms and nodded to assuage Harry's doubt.
This was ridiculous. Sirius wasn't going to be on the other end of this mirror,
he'd tried it before. Even if Sirius did have the mirror, it was nothing more
than fantasy to think that he could possibly be reached. That wasn't how death
worked, that wasn't even how magic worked. Was it? Well, he didn't really know
how the veil worked, in most of his experience; curtains weren't as lethal as
they seemed to be in the Ministry of Magic.
"Draco, I tried this before and it didn't work. This is ridiculous."
Draco sighed and shook his head. "I have two questions, and then if you really
can't be arsed to even try, then fine."
"All right."
"One, knowing you, you probably looked into the mirror, called for him and when
you didn't get what you wanted in under half a minute, you threw it across to
room in anger. Am I right?"
Harry averted his eyes. "Next question."
"Do you have a better idea?" Draco smirked.
It could be a monumental waste of time, although really, how long Draco
expected them to sit and wait for an answer wasn't what was truly vexing Harry.
He was filled with a myriad of emotions at the prospect of possibly talking to
his godfather again. If it did work, how much time had he wasted by having that
moment of arrogant disgust that had caused him to destroy the mirror? But
bigger than that was the notion of speaking to Sirius again.
The issue of his godfather had been mourned and resolved in the summer before
his sixth year. It was almost too painful to open that door again, to see him
after all this time.
"Sirius?"
***** Chapter 9 *****
"It's not working." Staring at his own reflection, Harry started to feel
foolish. "It's not going to work, I told you." He resisted the urge to throw
the mirror again. Stupid Draco for getting his hopes up. Stupid him for
allowing it. He knew better, didn't he?
Draco grabbed Harry's wrist to keep him from doing anything rash. "Would you
just wait? It might take some time. You don't know where he is."
"Oh, and you do?"
Instead of replying, Draco just gave him a look. "I know better than to toss
magical mirrors about."
"Right, you just destroy bedrooms."
"I was looking for something!" Draco's grip on Harry's wrist was getting
painful and he started to pull away.
"Am I interrupting something?" The voice was muted and a bit tinny, but the
drawl and cadence was unmistakably Sirius Black's.
Harry gasped and nearly dropped the mirror. Now he was grateful for Draco's
steadying grip. "Sirius?"
"Hullo, Harry." Sirius's eyes widened in surprise and traveled to Draco, but
then he looked back to Harry and flashed his cocksure grin. He looked younger,
more akin to Snape's memory than the haggard look of an Azkaban refugee that
Harry recalled. He wore a rather spiffing hat, and by the looks of his bare
shoulders, nothing else.
Harry wasn't sure what to make of Sirius's nudity and he wondered if he'd
caught him in the middle of something. He found himself unable to put together
words that made sense both from shock and embarrassment. "Um, hullo. How is
um... life?"
Draco let out an annoyed huff of air that sounded much like, "Pfft."
"Well, just a lot of afterlife, you know how it is." Sirius appeared nothing
but amused. "Except that I suppose you don't."
Much like the veil at the Ministry of Magic, Harry could hear the faint
whispering, just beyond Sirius's voice. Though Sirius was easy to see and well
lit, everything beyond him was black with hazy edges. It was disturbing to
ponder what might be in the beyond. As far as Harry knew, it could be a giant
orgy-- and perhaps it was. As much as Sirius deserved such fun, Harry really
didn't want to think about that right now. "Er, no, I suppose I wouldn't."
After a brief pause, he added, "Nice hat."
"So is this just a friendly chat, then?" Sirius smirked and lowered the brim in
a fanciful tip of his hat to Harry. If there was something untoward going on,
he wasn't giving any hints of it. He glanced again at Draco, but didn't
question.
"No... I had... um... a question." But what those questions were had vanished
from Harry's mind. All he could do was stare dumbly at Sirius. He looked
contented with the afterlife. The thought both pleased and hurt Harry. He
didn't want Sirius to be suffering, although in the back of his mind, he'd had
the thought that he might rescue Sirius-- bring him back to life to have the
family he never had. That line of thought was obliterated by seeing Sirius so
at home where he was, and Harry began to realize that they both had grown
beyond the point of that fantasy.
"Let's hear it, then?" Sirius smiled at Harry, the expression on his face
indulgent. Harry wondered if he could tell what he was thinking.
Draco moved close enough to Harry that his pale hair stroked his cheek. "The
question was about your brother Regulus. We understand that he quit the Death
Eaters before he was killed. We believe that his name was attached to a note to
You-Know-Who pertaining to something--" Draco asked.
"Oh right, Regulus collected one of his Horcruxes. Yes, he told me about that,"
Sirius interrupted.
"It was him?" Harry was anxious to know more, but then, the sooner he finished
this conversation, the less he'd see of his godfather. However, Draco's
closeness and the smell of his shampoo and the radiant warmth of his body so
close it was distracting.
"Bit of a falling out, obviously."
"Over what?" Draco was leaning in too much, obscuring Harry's view of Sirius,
so Harry moved in closer. Their cheeks touched, and while Harry fully expected
Draco to move away, he didn't.
"Well..." Sirius pulled his hat off and fluffed his hair. Once he'd set his hat
down, it vanished from view. "He was asked to do something he didn't want to
do."
"Go on." Draco snaked his arm around Harry, who leaned against him. He wondered
why Draco was comforting him, but he wasn't going to ask. Any questioning might
lead to Draco removing his arm.
"I was," Sirius snapped, glaring at Draco before speaking to Harry. "He was
asked to kill me and take the mirror I used to communicate with you father.
While Regulus didn't really have a problem stealing my mirror, he didn't want
to murder his own brother. So he refused and was tortured till he agreed to do
it."
Harry wrapped his arm around Draco. His breathing picked up between the
revelation and Draco's nearness. "But... so... then..." There was a connection
there and Harry knew that it was probably obvious, but the blood was flowing
away from his head as he snuggled closer to Draco and wasn't pushed away.
Sirius looked between them and though the corner of his mouth twitched, he
refrained from smirking or commenting. "Well, it was an odd request, wasn't it?
Regulus didn't understand why I needed to die to procure the mirror, so he
started doing some research. 'Digging around,' as it were. He found out about
the Horcruxes and began learning about Tom Riddle's life, which led him to why
Voldemort wanted the mirrors."
"So then he found out about the Horcruxes and went looking for one..." Draco
prodded.
"But how did he get it?" Harry interrupted. "There had to be someone else with
him. Did you help him?"
The familiar bark-like laugh sounded from the mirror. It shot straight to
Harry's nerves, twisting his stomach, reminding him how much he'd really missed
Sirius. He seemed far away even while he was present-- like a fading dream.
"No, I'm afraid that was Kreacher. I'd say that explains why he's so off, but
he was always... odd."
"So, the mirrors are... why did he want them?" Draco seemed determined to keep
the conversation on track, which was lucky as Harry started to notice that
Sirius's image was fading.
"While I didn't know this when Prongs and I started using them..." Draco gave
Harry a questioning look at the use of the nickname, but didn't remark. Sirius
continued, "They belonged to Godric Gryffindor."
"That's what the 'G' on the side means," Harry observed.
Sirius's wan face peered back at Harry, fractionally fainter than he had been
before. "Yes. From what I heard later, Gryffindor's brother was a rather sickly
squib cursed with a hex no one could undo, so Godric enchanted these mirrors so
that he could talk to him while he was stuck in bed. He could show him the
outside world, and the school he was building and such." He looked between
Harry and Draco and paused. "Well, that's the story anyway."
Harry stared despondently at the vanishing image, quiet as he mulled over the
story of the Gryffindor brothers. It was an interesting history, but he wasn't
sure of the significance. "Hang on," he said, thinking aloud. He suppressed his
urge to panic at losing Sirius again. He needed to use this time wisely. "When
did my father give you the mirror back?"
"Harry... that..." It was obvious that it was a story Sirius didn't want to
tell, but that he could also see that their time was limited. His grey eyes
cast around the frame of the mirror, the cage between them. "When I spoke with
Hagrid... that night... he was holding it. The house was destroyed, but you
were undamaged and playing with it. I... took it with me. I wanted it to...
well, to remember James when I did what I needed to do.
Sirius paused again to bite his lip and then went on, "You have to understand
that at the time I thought... well, I thought I'd die fighting Voldemort after
I'd gotten from Peter where he was. I didn't mean to steal..."
"It's all right, Sirius." Harry smiled softly at him. His first concern was to
alleviate Sirius's obvious guilt. What he would've done with a mirror whose
mate was missing all those years at the Dursley's, he had no idea. "I'd
probably have broken it anyway. Or the Dursleys would've."
Sirius was little more than a ghostly figure in the mirror anymore. He was
saying something; his face appeared anguished either in remorse or desperation
of some sort. In the translucence of reflection, it was hard to say. Harry was
looking at himself, squinting at what was left of Sirius and whispered, "You
are forgiven." He slid his fingers over what was likely the last impression of
his godfather that he was going to see in this lifetime.
Harry was startled to see a droplet of water land next to his thumb, silvery on
the glass. He whipped his head up to look at Draco, who was staring impassively
back at him. It wasn't Draco who was crying.
Draco's cool thumb brushed under the frame of Harry's glasses, pushing the
wetness away. His other fingers curled on Harry's cheek, just before his ear.
Harry leaned into him as he felt Draco's caring lips brush over the roughness
of his scar. He shivered at the gentle touch and drew the mirror against his
chest, clutching it between them.
--
Though he hadn't shed further tears, Draco held Harry in bed. Their bare
bellies pressed together, although Draco still insisted that they wear their
pyjama bottoms. Lolly observed from a chair, perched lovingly, but otherwise
uninvolved. Harry watched the odd way she glowed in the tentative shadow light
of nighttime, thinking how ethereal she looked, like Sirius in those last
moments. Just past vision.
Draco stroked his hair and pressed occasional kisses soft like sighs to his
cheek and lips. Harry pushed against him again, listening to the way their
sweaty and come-coated skin sealed together, tacky from the time that had
passed since they'd come together again.
Harry fought his distress with thoughts of what it was like to press against
Draco in the crush of darkness, the way Draco's fingers searched his cock out
curiously, teasing him through his flannels before slipping past the flannel.
There wasn't a vein, nerve or wrinkle that Draco hadn't touched in his
exploration. He'd even added lotion to the mix to smooth the sensation.
The back of Harry's pyjama pants had pulled what he thought might be a
permanent burn into his back where the string stuck, but the overwhelming
sensation of those precious supple hands thrumming over his cock pushed it from
his mind. Even the notion of it was enough to awaken Harry's cock again. He
pushed the semi-hardness against Draco's hipbone, whimpering at how hard he'd
jabbed it.
"You're really milking this whole pity thing, aren't you?" Draco's hand glided
from Harry's back to rest on his hip and he teased his thumb as far as it would
reach over the material.
"Isn't that what you'd do?" asked Harry, surprised at his own cheek.
Draco appeared appreciative of the jab. "That's different."
"How?"
"I'm a Slytherin."
Harry rolled his eyes and nudged Draco's face, coy expression and all, up to
trace the soft flesh with the tip of his tongue. Draco's mouth wouldn't open to
that prompt, so he leaned in and sucked soft kisses to his bottom lip. To his
consternation, Draco remained stubborn. Parting his lips again to swipe his
tongue over Draco's mouth, he found it opened and the meltingly warmth melded
with his.
After a few more nudges against his hip and Harry's agonized whine, Draco
ducked his hand under the waistband and his index finger delicately traced over
the head of Harry's cock, nudging back the foreskin. Harry let out a relieved
sigh and reached for Draco's cock.
--
The next morning, Harry awoke to a dip and creak in the mattress. His eyes
opened slowly, wanting to savour this moment of waking up with Draco, pleased
that this time he had waited. When his eyes finally did open, he was surprised
to find a blurry redhead before him. "Ron?"
"Try again," said Ginny.
Harry sat up immediately and grabbed the covers over him, hoping to hide the
nudity and sticky mess. He was surprised to find that he was not only cleaned
up, but wearing his sleep shirt. It hadn't been a wonderful dream, his thighs
were sore from thrusting against that beautiful hand a few times last night. He
surmised that Draco must've heard company and fixed him up. He quietly blessed
him. "What are you doing here?"
"Good morning to you, too!" Though her words were caustic, even to his unaided
eye, he could see that she was grinning.
He reached past her for his glasses and shoved them on and gave her a dubious
look. "Good morning, what are you doing here?"
"I didn't sneak up here to seduce you if that's what you think."
Harry gave an exasperated sigh and folded his arms over his chest.
"I came to apologize. Well, I came with Ron and Hermione. They're downstairs
being grilled by Malfoy on the condition of his mum. But I just wanted to..."
"They're here?" Harry leapt out of bed and grabbed his dressing gown. He didn't
care that he wasn't dressed; he hadn't seen them in what felt like months.
"Harry! I wanted to offer my apologies for how I behaved, would you just wait a
moment?" She stood to bodily block him from the door.
"Do I have a choice?" He crossed his arms again, staring her down, willing her
to move from the door.
"It was just kind of a shock. I just always thought we'd..."
"We're not."
Ginny nodded grimly and then thrust her hand into Harry's face. On her pinky
was a pretty little gold ring with a tiny bud on it that blossomed in a
complex, multi-petal golden bloom. "Neville gave me this."
Harry gave it a disinterested look. "Back to Neville now, are you? That's
great."
"We didn't really date before; it was just the Yule Ball. Anyway, he's really
sweet, just a bit shy. This is a dahlia. He says that in the Victorian language
of flowers, it means 'forever thine.'"
"Forever hm?" he asked with sarcastic fervor. "That's quite a commitment."
"I really like Neville. He's brave and heroic in his own way, you know.
Besides, I'm over you. I just thought you should know that." Her face was
strained and her freckles stood out even more on her blanched skin.
"I'd like to see Ron and Hermione now."
"I'd like us to be friends again, Harry. I really am over you. This isn't a...
I just..." she stared at her feet and switched her weight from foot to foot.
"Neville... kind of grew on me, I guess. I really was trying to make you
jealous with Seamus. I dated a few other people, but... Neville really treats
me well and... Well, he is a little clingy... and he's started to buy me things
like Seamus did."
Harry had been about to physically remove her from the door, but he was struck
by her words and posture. He wasn't sure he could doubt her sincerity. "That's
great for you. Both of you. Maybe you should just... maybe he just needs
reassuring?"
"Maybe. I try to be reassuring, but... I don't know. I guess it started out so
weird after I broke up with Seamus and... well, Dean was a bit put out. I guess
it's a bit tense in the room now." She shoved her hands into her pockets.
"Plus, I can't really afford to buy him things back so I've been doing...
erm...."
Harry's eyes widened and he blushed brightly and looked away.
"Sorry, I don't mean to embarrass you."
"It's all right. I just... I don't know what to tell you. I'm not exactly
experienced in what to buy to replace a blowj-- er," he teased, breaking the
ice with a bit of a smile.
"Oh, I bet Malfoy would love to be lavished with things. Or blowj-'s."
"I bet he would." Harry missed the eager and impish grin on Ginny's face.
"So you are with him!" she said, shaking her red mane back from her face.
"Not exactly with him, just... not... I don't really know. Nothing's..." he
looked over at Draco's dressing gown with the Slytherin crest sitting in the
chair, a silent indication that Draco was not staying in his own room.
Ginny smirked at the clothing. "Well, mum says I can't blame you for who you
are. People like you are born that way."
"What?" Harry's brows furrowed at that wording.
"You can't help what you do, you know? You're born that way. That's what she
said. So I don't blame you, Harry." Her magnanimous grin gave Harry the urge to
slap her.
Instead, he gritted his teeth and tried to smile. He didn't want to have
another row. He just wanted to be happy that his friends were back. Would Mrs
Weasley really put it that way? He hoped that Ginny misunderstood or was being
careless with her phrasing. "Breakfast smells great. I'm starving; let's get
down there."
--
After Mrs Weasley and Ginny left, Harry and Ron settled in to play Wizard's
chess while Hermione hunted down some yarn and needles that had been left over
from the Order's stay to frantically begin making hats in the hopes of freeing
the house-elf that Narcissa had brought. After watching Harry lose several
times in a row, Draco insinuated himself into the game, going head-to-head
against Ron.
The game ran through dinner, each boy spending several minutes considering each
move. They took their meal at the table, staring one another down and quipping.
The game's end found Ron triumphant and Draco sulking in his room with several
hexes on the door barring Harry from comforting him.
Ron would later admit that it was the best game he'd ever had.
Harry spent the remainder of the night chit-chatting with his friends making
vague references to how the relationship was developing with Draco. He was
pleased to find his friends genuinely happy for him.
When he retired for the night, he was disappointed to find his bed empty save
for Lolly occupying the space that Draco would have. There was no note, but
Harry was touched that Draco left his precious toy in his stead. It gave him
hope that this arrangement was temporary.
He washed up and slipped into bed, tucking Lolly under his chin. Inhaling, he
could smell the citrusy remnants of Draco. He buried his nose in her silken
mane and closed his eyes, hoping for sweet dreams.
--
After what had seemed like only a few minutes, but read a couple of hours by
the low-lit clock on the nightstand, Harry awoke to someone in shadow pulling
Lolly from his chest. He squinted in the gloom, making out only a vaguely
silvery figure until Draco was close enough that he felt his breath on his
cheek. His hands and feet were cold, but Harry ignored that as he resettled
under the covers with Draco. Lolly was relegated to the nightstand again as
Harry tilted his head back to feel the warm kisses on his throat and gasped at
the cold hands working down the front of his pyjama pants.
--
Harry was disappointed, but not surprised, to wake up alone the next morning.
This had been going on for days with no discussion or acknowledgement during
the daylight hours and he was beginning to feel a bit used. At first it hadn't
really mattered. He wanted Draco, Draco apparently wanted him, and he certainly
couldn't complain about how good it felt. He wanted more, and was determined to
talk about it.
However, Draco had taken to keeping himself in the company of Ron and Hermione
like a shield to keep himself from being cornered. Each night he arrived in
Harry's room, beginning immediately with the frantic kisses and touching that
obliterated all questions from Harry's mind. He cursed his own weakness and
furthermore Draco's ability to prey on it. If that is what he was doing.
The progression of days went merrily enough. He was hesitant to bring up the
subject of Horcruxes, as Hermione had suffered horribly from gaining the last
one, and having everyone around him felt settled like family. It wasn't
something he wished to disrupt with something as unsettling as reality.
Each flare of the fireplace was met with a wincing realization that Snape could
arrive with more word about what their next move would be and this peaceful,
homey setting would be obliterated and he could possibly lose someone
altogether. There were still two Horcruxes outstanding before he had to go into
his final battle to destroy Voldemort-- a battle he was certain he'd win, but
he wasn't so certain that he would come out of alive.
It was as if the very thought of the man had summoned him, but instead of his
arriving through the Floo, Snape stalked into the drawing room, wand at the
ready and pointed at Harry. "Isn't this a happy little gathering of sitting
ducks?"
"What are you doing here?" Harry jumped up from the chess game he was playing
with Ron, pulling his wand in spite of the futility of it.
"Is that the response you propose to use on the Dark Lord? I assure you that
you wouldn't make it through your sentence before you, then Weasley were put to
rest." Snape demonstrated by pointing his wand first and Harry, then to Ron and
across the room at Hermione.
"Lower your wand, Professor," Harry snapped. "How did you get here?"
"By Floo." Snape smirked and pointed his wand one last time at Harry, holding
it for affect before he slipped it into his pocket.
"So you ambushed us on purpose?" Harry likewise put his wand away, into his
back pocket.
"No, actually the only link by Floo network is between where I'm staying and
the kitchen Floo. No one was there. This is no excuse for your sloppy response,
however," Snape lectured.
"And just where ARE you staying, Professor?" asked Draco from the doorway
behind Snape. Harry was pleased to see that Draco had pressed his wand to
Snape's throat from behind, like a blade ready to slit his throat.
Snape's expression went from surprised to lecherously proud. He pulled the wand
from his throat and with a three quarter turn, faced Draco. "I could show you
if you wish." Then Snape took a step back, his visage turned enough for Harry
to see his horror. "What are you wearing, Malfoy?"
Though Harry hadn't really thought about it, Draco had been dressing like a
Muggle lately. Harry had appreciated the relative tightness of the trousers
that Draco had been donning, but hadn't thought about why he was wearing them
until now. He blushed and grinned.
Draco lowered his head and stared at his shifting feet. "Clothes."
"What would your father say?" Snape began to close in on him again, but
Hermione pushed herself between the Slytherins.
"I would think that Lucius Malfoy would be glad that his son was still alive at
this point."
"He doesn't need a Mudblood to defend him, Miss Granger."
Harry jumped ahead of Ron to keep him from hexing Snape and joined the fray.
"But it's all right for a half blood to defend you. But I suppose since you're
not a pureblood yourself, you have little to say on that matter, do you?"
"You won't be defending anyone very long against the Dark Lord if you spend all
of your time playing children's games. You should be training up. Finding the
Horcruxes is only half of your mission, you still have to kill Him." Snape
folded his arms and backed into the hall.
Draco looked between Snape and Harry, an unreadable expression on his face.
"Not necessarily Potter, though. Once they're all found, anyone could kill
him."
Harry was horrified at the smirking realization that overtook Snape's
countenance as he passed out of being shocked by Draco's ignorance. He kept his
glare steady, jaw set as he listened to Snape's hiss. "You didn't tell him, did
you?"
"Tell me what?" Draco's hair flared from his head as his head turned
frantically back and forth.
Ron and Hermione appeared rooted to where they were, but they were looking at
one another and then to Harry. He swallowed and let his head lag forward.
"Mr Malfoy, what Potter has failed to explain to you is that there is a
prophecy." Harry could practically feel Snape's superior grin and Draco's
growing anxiety.
"Yes, but no one knows what that prophecy says as it was dropped in the
Ministry of Magic." Draco's closeness felt like defeat. He was so clueless and
unprepared for this. Harry hated himself for not explaining it before now. He
just hadn't wanted to think about it himself. Now he realized just how cruel
that was.
"I heard it when it was given. Most of it, in any case. There is reason why the
Dark Lord went to kill an infant. It is Potter who is prophesied to be the only
one who can destroy him. It is Potter who will have to face him in the end.
Stand or fall, the final battle will be between the Dark Lord--who has decades
of learning-- dark magic and experience against a Hogwarts drop out."
Harry turned to Draco, who stood in ghastly comprehension. He looked appalled
and determined. Draco tilted his head up, trying to remain haughty in spite of
the glassy-wet look of his eyes. "Well, Harry's defeated him several times
before with as many odds, if not more as it wasn't... there weren't prophecies
about those and he had even less experience."
His relief was mitigated by Draco pulling his hand away when Harry reached for
it. Draco stood with his arms crossed, radiating his displeasure, but at least
he wasn't leaving with Snape. "Thank you," Harry whispered. Draco averted his
eyes.
After clearing his throat, Snape drawled, "In any case, I was attempting to
contact you to let you know I found out a bit about the final Horcrux."
Since Harry was keeping his back to Snape, Hermione piped up with, "What did
you find out, Professor?" Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Ron flinch.
"I am no longer a Professor, Miss Granger." Harry wheeled around to glare at
him; Snape eyed him down with his usual disinterested scowl. "In any case, it
would seem that the final Horcrux is a mirror belonging to Godric Gryffindor.
However, it would seem that something went wrong with--"
Draco broke in. "It was already broken. It can't be... unless it's the other
one... but we couldn't possibly get it back, it's on the other side." Harry
turned to look at Draco midway through his speech. His voice was high, near to
cracking and the anxiety on his pointed face alarmed Harry.
"As I was saying... something went wrong with the spell, so it might not be--"
"But Potter was found with that mirror, when his parents... when..." Draco gave
Snape an almost pleading look before staring at Harry and then up to his
forehead.
Catching on finally to where Draco was going, Harry reached up to slide his
finger over his scar. "He meant... to use the mirror... to kill me to make
the... final..."
"It's highly unusual for a living person to carry a Horcrux," said Snape.
"However, it would explain his fixation on killing you. Perhaps to reclaim that
bit of soul so that he could place it elsewhere. He wouldn't want to make a new
Horcrux without ending the old one. He is fixated on numbers."
"So... they'll have to... kill each other?" Hermione asked tightly. She and Ron
had huddled together.
Harry exhaled as he felt Draco's hand in his. He gripped it tightly. Snape
glared at the union and spoke, "It would seem so."
Though he probably should have seen this coming, the way that his life had
been-- good moments struck down by impossible odds and nearly impassable
intrusions-- he'd never truly thought it would come to such an abrupt end after
such a short time. He looked at Draco's strained face and then, not knowing
where else to seek comfort, he wrapped his arms around him, and was almost
surprised to feel Draco respond by holding him back.
Hermione and Ron joined the two, wanting to commiserate with Harry. They tried
to whisper encouragements to him, but he was too shocked to really hear them.
Harry hid his face in Draco's neck, finding himself seeking comfort instead of
providing it.
"Well, I shall go back and after you have made your arrangements, I'll alert
you to the optimal time in which to strike." Harry heard Snape's footsteps tap
on the hardwood floor, and the whoosh of the Floo that signaled his exit.
***** Chapter 10 *****
After all of the tears, the 'I'm sorrys' and the 'it's not your faults' had
been properly distributed along with the liberal use of hugs and lingering
looks, the two couples were left standing awkwardly looking at one another. The
idea on everyone's mind was that this would be the end and that Harry Potter
would be no more and that perhaps they should not sleep again.
"I'm going to bed." Draco turned and headed to their room. After another long
hug and several more cheek kisses, Harry followed. He was surprised that Draco
was still there, that he hadn't decided to go with a safer bet. But he meant
what he said, evidently, that he believed in Harry and that was as good an
endorsement as Harry thought he'd have outside of the return of Dumbledore.
Harry changed into his night clothes and slipped into bed next to Draco. He'd
just closed his eyes when he felt the bed shift and looked up to see Draco
straddling him, the other boy's weight on his thighs. He had a curious look in
his eyes, almost predatory. Draco leered at him from head down to his tented
pyjama pants.
This was a definite break in pattern from their current flirtations, but Harry
was too scared to ask what prompted it. He just watched Draco. "I want you to
put your mouth on it."
The room was dark so it was hard for Harry to tell if Draco was blushing as
deeply as he was, although he did think he caught a crimson hue to the shadow.
This may well have been his fantasy. "What do you mean... it?"
Draco scooted back a little and looked both ways as if someone might spy on
them. Seeing Lolly on the nightstand facing them, he turned her around. Harry
rolled his eyes. Draco unbuttoned his silk silver nightshirt and worked out of
it. Harry watched in utter amazement as the skin was revealed to him.
After going for so long without seeing Draco's prick since the shower, having
it live and in arm's reach was shocking. Harry slid his fingers over the front
of Draco's chest, circling his nipples as Draco unfastened the string on his
pyjama pants. He moved Harry's hands to his own buttons and comprehending the
meaning, started to unbutton himself.
"You want me to put my mouth on your penis?" asked Harry to break the silence.
Draco nodded and rolled over, completely starkers, onto his side and then on
his back. Harry lit a candle and used his wand to light a couple more. He
wanted to see Draco's ivory skin and the swell of his dark pink prick pressing
sticky against his belly.
Harry wasn't sure about this business of putting his mouth on it. He wanted to
ask if it was clean. Of course it was clean to an extent, because Malfoy was
quite fussy hygienically, but was it clean enough to really put your mouth on,
considering what came out of there... "Take a shower first."
"A shower?"
"I know you're familiar with the concept. I've seen you take five in one day."
"Not very romantic, Potter," Draco pointed out as he rolled out of bed and
turned on the spigots. Harry followed, watching how Draco bent over, the flash
of pink between his cheeks. That was, as far as he knew, where he was supposed
to want to put it. If he got himself in there, he wouldn't be a virgin anymore.
He wasn't entirely sure how the hand jobs counted; Ron didn't seem to really
want to go over that with him. Or rather, he just didn't want to talk about it
with Ron. Because if he asked Ron and Ron knew, that meant that Ron had
probably had this conversation with someone over what he'd done with Hermione.
That was like knowing your parents had sex. No. He'd figure it out on his own.
Draco returned wrapped in a towel and shivering, but he gamely crawled back
under the covers and laid down spread eagle on the bed. "Why this, Draco? Why
now?"
"Well, you're going to die soon, so might as well have a bit of fun before you
go, right?"
That made sense, in a Draco sort of way. Harry was a bit disturbed with the
notion that he might be learning to understand Draco's thought processes. No
matter how obtuse and brutal they might be, they made a certain kind of
sense... and yet..."Shouldn't I be the one with your mouth on it if I'm the one
who is going to theoretically... you know... pack it in?"
"You're the one who's gay so you're the one who wants to put his mouth on it
and besides," Draco said, fielding objections before they were given, "I'm the
one who bothered to get clean. So, it will be my cock that's getting sucked."
Matter settled; Draco went limp against the bed.
Still unsure about doing this, Harry crawled over and kissed over Draco's
stomach a few awkward times as he tried to gather the courage. Draco pushed the
top of his head down facing him nose to... cock. The point was clear. Draco
wanted what he wanted and that was that. At least it was clean.
Harry stuck out his tongue and slid it nervously up his shaft. Draco groaned
dramatically. If it was an act, it was a very good one, as Harry very much
wanted to hear him make that noise again. So he stroked his tongue up Draco's
prick, enjoying the soft whimpers it elicited. He continued to go on this way,
lapping sometimes, pointing his tongue other times, trying to decide which way
seemed to turn Draco on the most.
"Suck it, Harry."
"It won't fit." He picked up the base of Draco's prick to eye the tip. It was
certainly narrow enough to go into his mouth but he wasn't sure about the
length. The tip oozed a clear fluid and though Harry had seen this before on
his own prick, he'd never tasted it. He flicked his tongue out and then made a
face at its mellow-bitter taste. Not a brilliant taste, but tolerable. The test
had caused Draco to flail against the sheets in a way that made Harry feel
strangely powerful. After giving Draco a smirk that he was sure he couldn't
ignore, Harry pulled the tip of his cock into his mouth.
He suckled it, tasting the wrinkled skin as his tongue prodded back the
foreskin. Harry's fingers worked the exposed area at the base. Malfoy's cock
was fascinating. It bent the same way Harry's did, only slightly less. It was
quite straight, really. It was a bit longer, but Harry observed that his was
much thicker, but they both felt of that velvety soft skin that moved so
teasingly over the hardness beneath it.
Draco was whining and whimpering against the bed. His head thrashed back and
forth and he grabbed the dark sheets to half pull over him. His hair was askew
and his back arching as he begged for more. Harry tried to accommodate, pulling
as much of Draco's cock as he could get into his mouth, which turned out to be
a bit more than half. He opened his eyes to look up at Draco's tortured face.
"More... more... oh Harry... I need... keep... don't stop, Harry."
Assuming he meant more of his cock into his mouth, Harry opened his mouth wider
and tried to pull him deeper, but oddly, as he looked down at Draco's shaft and
the curly bits of hair around his balls, he thought of that feather duster and
where it went. He brought his finger to his mouth, deciding to test something.
Draco wanted more, and there was only so much more cock that was going to get
into Harry's mouth before he gagged. But this... could be... more... and if it
coincidentally meant that perhaps he'd lose his virginity tonight, then... that
was good for everyone. But mostly him. If he was going to die, then he should
at least get that much, right?
He quietly thanked himself for having had Draco take a shower before this as
this was going to be very, very dirty. He bobbed his head back on Draco's cock,
tried to figure out what he was doing and then slowly started to worm his
finger inside of Draco.
Draco stopped everything as Harry's finger invaded him. The inner muscles
fought him a little, but when they did, Harry stopped. He continued to softly
suck at Draco's waning erection. He pushed his finger further in, feeling the
odd, humid dryness. He wished he'd had a better lubricant than spittle as it
felt hot and compressed inside-- and oddly tubular. He pulled his finger back
out and began to bob his head again. Draco relaxed and soon made cooing and
begging noises again.
Pale hands splayed out over the sheets, he grabbed them hard and garbled
something about coming that Harry didn't quite understand. Did he hear someone
coming down the hall? Should they stop? He turned his head, letting the cock
slide out of his mouth in time for Draco's release that pumped over his cheek
and then onto his glasses in a warm, gloppy gush. Harry was mortified, but
Draco appeared to be dealing with his own embarrassment as he'd pulled the
sheets tightly over his head and gave no indication of coming out of hiding any
time soon.
That left Harry to charm the sheets clean. He headed to the bathroom to wash
up. Staring into the mirror, he thought about his life, however short it was
going to be and how it all led up to the strange climax of sucking off Draco
Malfoy and having to clean his come from his face. Hopefully he'd have a few
more days to train up and actually lose his virginity, as he didn't think that
was going to happen tonight.
By the time he'd finished brushing his teeth and making sure that there was no
trace of ejaculate left on his glasses, Draco appeared to be asleep. All of the
excitement of watching Draco get off-- in spite of the surprise ending-- had
left Harry rather hard. He could go back into the bathroom to take care of it,
but he decided he was more comfortable here. Plus here he could at least look
at Draco and feel the warmth of him next to him.
Closing his eyes, he slipped his hand under his waistband and traced his
fingers along his cock. He moved slowly, warming up to his own touches as he
increased the pressure and began to grip it in full. He was so enthralled by
his fantasy of Draco mouthing his prick, that he hadn't noticed that Draco had
slipped under the covers and by the look of the large lump next to his hips,
was getting quite an eyeful. "I thought you were asleep."
"I was for a little bit, but I kept having these nightmares that you died
without someone putting their mouth on it." Harry felt Draco's breath on his
cock. "Besides, you moan too loudly for me to sleep through."
Harry pushed the sheets back to watch. He observed the way Draco fisted the
base of his cock and licked experimentally just the way Harry did. Almost as if
it was an ice cream cone, only... holy fuck it felt so good. He could barely
believe that the same skin he'd just been touching could feel so much better.
He was a definite fan of this soft wetness.
He loved the way that Draco's mouth had to stretch to get around his cock, that
Draco was doing this at all. Harry sat up on his elbows to watch Draco
struggling to take him down and Harry felt badly for him. He thought about
giving advice but as he'd just done it the first time a moment ago, he didn't
really have any brilliant pearls of wisdom aside from, "There... just there..."
Draco was flicking his tongue along the head, dipping the tip into the slit. He
was definitely more imaginative; Harry had to give him that. But then Draco
opened his mouth and took Harry all the way into him, or at least most of the
way. His fingers remained at the base of Harry's prick and he started to bob
his head in rhythm. Harry tried to move with that rhythm, but after a few
longer strokes, he felt Draco start to gag and was forced to stop.
After that, Harry found his hipbones pinned to the bed by Draco's hands as he
rocked back and forth on his knees, swiveling his neck for variety as he sucked
Harry hard. Draco's cheeks hollowed out and blushed as he moved. Harry spread
his legs, expecting to feel a finger there, fair was fair after all. The finger
never came, or at least it was obliterated but the sudden dizzying vibrating
feeling of his oncoming orgasm. His eyes rolled back and he fought to buck more
into Draco's mouth, but what he got instead was Draco slowing down, but giving
more determined pulls. The result was the same. Harry's balls were tightening
and he let out a blind yelp that he was coming. Now he understood what Draco
was saying.
He was both pleased and disappointed that Draco moved back and pushed a tissue
over the head of his expelling prick. Draco's lips were bright red and he was
flushed and glistening and they'd just... sucked each other off and there was
no way that they couldn't talk about things now. This was getting serious.
Draco tossed the tissues into the bin by the bed and then got up to pull his
pyjamas back on.
"Draco."
"Harry."
"What we... we just... you know... we should... you know?"
Draco smirked and slipped back into bed. "Should we? You're going to have to
die; I'm not sure what it matters."
Suddenly Harry was hurt. Maybe even more hurt than he was that he was going to
die. "So just snog till we die?"
"Technically it's only you that has to die, and really with your luck, you
probably won't die. But just in case you do, would you rather whinge about it
till someone puts you out of your misery or would you like to do more of..."
Draco gestured to Harry's waist. "That?"
"Point, but... do you even like me?"
Draco rolled his eyes and gave Harry a withering look. "You really are stupid,
Potter." With that, he rolled over and refused to speak.
--
Harry awoke to pale hair in his face. He inhaled slowly; enjoying the citrus
smell of Draco, thrilled that finally he'd stayed in bed and didn't jump up to
shower immediately or find some other random thing to do. He pulled him closer,
burying his face in Draco's hair and sliding his hand across his furry chest.
Furry.
Pulling back, Harry frowned at Lolly. Her placid smile remained the same, even
as Harry muttered, "Bastard."
--
Breakfast was a morose affair. Ron and Hermione kept exchanging meaningful
glances and stopping mid sentence as if there was no point in talking about the
future with a dead man walking. Draco said nothing, but glared almost
constantly at Harry's forehead. All in all, Harry was starting to wish that
Voldemort would get on with it if this was how it was going to be.
He was pondering whether death would hurt or not and chewing his bacon
thoughtfully when Draco excused himself from the table to write a letter to his
mum. Harry couldn't help but feel like he'd betrayed Draco in some way,
although when he met Draco's eyes, for the nanosecond before Draco looked away,
he looked nothing other than sympathetic. Somehow, that hurt more than the
thought that Draco might be angry.
"We'll find a way past this, Harry. You know we'll figure something out," said
Hermione. She touched Harry's hand and he looked down at it and then to her
eyes. She didn't waver or look away. He could see the sincerity, but it seemed
entirely too fanciful. He remembered what Dumbledore said about how the
prophecy was optional, that he and Voldemort could just decide not to fight and
go their separate ways, but he knew that there was no way that they could call
a truce, especially not now that he'd destroyed all but the final two
Horcruxes.
Harry dropped eye contact with Hermione. "I know you'll try. I just... there's
some point when luck runs out, isn't there?"
"Harry, Dumbledore said to keep us with you and there will be some way out of
this. You know that. Deep down you must know that." In spite of Hermione's
words, Harry could feel a frantic need to believe what she said that led him to
believe she didn't. Sneaking his curled index finger under his glasses, he
rubbed his eye and nodded.
"We'll sort something out, mate." Ron sounded less definite, but he'd stood up
to pat Harry's back and Harry turned to hug him tightly. Hermione hopped up to
join in, hugging him from behind. Even if this was the end, he knew that he had
family here, at least he was loved. This was what he was protecting, and if he
had to die to do it, then so be it. This had to go on, this would endure no
matter what happened to him-- it was bigger than him. Maybe that's what
Dumbledore wanted him to have, to understand before he passed on.
He just wished Draco were part of it.
--
"Look Malfoy, I understand you don't want to talk about it, but it's really
silly to starve yourself just to avoid me." Harry pounded on the door again. He
hadn't seen hide nor hair of Draco since breakfast. Balancing the dinner plate
of curry in his hand he knocked again and then tried the door. It wasn't hexed
shut, so it opened wide revealing... nothing. Draco wasn't in this room either.
He went back to his room and Draco was not there either. Running up to the
attic, he started to get the sinking feeling that Draco was no longer in
Grimmauld place.
After dashing room to room, Harry ran down to the kitchen, flushed and
breathless. "Malfoy's gone."
Ron set his utensils down. "What?"
Repeating it was proving too much for Harry. He set the plate down as he felt
the lonely prickle of abandonment irritate his skin. He closed his eyes, trying
to steel himself against the overwhelming emotions that threatened to purge his
curry. "I can't find him."
"Did you check the attic?" asked Hermione.
"Yes."
"And the drawing room?"
"Of course."
"What about the cellars?"
"HERMIONE, I LOOKED EVERYWHERE!" He saw the stricken look on her face and he
knew he should recant, but his frustration overwhelmed his good sense and all
he wanted to do was to lash out at someone, anyone. Too bad Snape wasn't here.
Then he caught onto the idea. He eyed the fireplace with malicious intent. Of
course, where else would Draco have gone? He was upset, confused and probably
scared-- although he didn't seem that frightened last night with a cock stuffed
in his mouth. Harry's expression turned viperous at the thought. Perhaps if
Draco was going to play kept boy for Snape, the greasy old git should know just
what kind of boy he was keeping.
Ron and Hermione had gotten up and were moving towards Harry, but he brushed
past them to kneel before the fireplace. He had no idea if this would work, it
was probably a harebrained gambit at best, but at this point, Harry didn't
care. Grabbing a fistful of Floo powder, he threw it into the fireplace and
announced, "To Snape."
In a dizzying whoosh, Harry was carried to a small room lit all in candles.
There was little to no personal touches in the room aside from the darkness of
the huge mahogany bed covered in rich furs and black velvet, the stone
fireplace he'd tumbled out of and a large cauldron that was wedged in the
corner of two large bookshelves laden with small, unlabeled vials of
unidentifiable ingredients. He cast a quick glance at the room, but it was also
sans Draco. Then again, Snape was nowhere to be seen either.
He cast about for clues, gathering his courage to go out through the large,
walnut door when it opened and Snape swished through. Upon seeing Harry, he
quickly shut the door and flourished his wand to seal the room shut and quiet.
"What are you doing here?"
"Where's Malfoy?"
Wand still at the ready, Snape considered the question and perked a brow.
Though his face remained placid, his body tensed. "He should be with you."
"You don't know where he is?" The idea that he wasn't with Snape hadn't
occurred to him. Recalling the wolves at the door on that first night that
Draco came to him, he was filled with much more than jealousy.
"Go back to your house and wait. If he's here, I'll find him."
Suddenly Harry really didn't want to leave. Snape couldn't be Draco's hero, if
there was saving to be done, it should be Harry doing it. "No. I'm not leaving.
I'll go with you, if you like, but I'm not going to leave him to you to
rescue."
"You have no idea where you are, Potter. Go now; you're not ready for this
battle." Snape grabbed Harry by the collar and tried to drag him to the
fireplace. Harry was no longer a small preteen and shoved him back.
"I don't care where I am. I need to find him." He crossed his arms and glared
at Snape. "And if here is so dangerous, then why was I allowed in?"
"It's set up for Malfoy, should he need to speak with me or visit me. This is
the Dark Lord's lair and I daresay you're not up to the task of battling him
just yet... unless today is the day you wish to die, in which case..." Snape
stepped aside and held his hand towards the door.
Harry started to it. If Draco was here and needed him, then today was a good
day to die. Halting Harry with his hand against his chest, Snape shook his
head. "No, you fool. You don't even know that he's here."
"Where else would he have gone?" Harry swatted Snape's hand away and grabbed
his wand from his waistband, prepared to fight.
Snape shook his head. "If he were here... I should know about it. I would have
been informed, unless I've been compromised." He paced in front of the large
bed and stopped to curl his hand around the twisting spire. "But were I
compromised, we wouldn't be having this conversation. I'd be with him....
unless..."
"Unless what?" Harry edged to the door and Snape laid down another hex. When
Harry grabbed for the knob, he felt a vibrating shock like an electrical
current running through his arm and released it. "Ow!"
"Unless they're waiting for me to come to them. Go back to Grimmauld, and if
you do not hear from me within the hour, come back through if you must. I will
buy what time I can for him, the rest is up to you." Snape crossed to the door
and waved his wand. "Finite."
Snape's manner was so fatherly, so official and so automatic that Harry
couldn't doubt his sincerity-- even though he wanted to. Now he was forced to
realize that Snape didn't have merely perverted designs on Draco, but perhaps
he had real feelings for him. He was ashamed of what he'd allowed himself to
believe. "I'll... right. I'll wait."
As he felt the magical wind of the Floo start to lift him back through the
network to Grimmauld, he heard Snape's door slam and Harry started to prepare
himself for what might be his final hour on Earth.
***** Chapter 11 *****
"Harry, he told you to wait an hour!"
"It's almost been!"
"It's only been 45 minutes, mate."
Harry looked at Ron in a plea for help. He was panicked from the moment he
figured out that Draco was nowhere in Grimmauld, not even hiding somewhere
under his invisibility cloak. He had to be captured or lured out some way, he
just had to.
"You have to face the fact that this could just be a trap, Harry. Even if
Malfoy didn't intend for it to be, maybe he was on our side, but we don't know
that for certain. Maybe this was the plan all along." Hermione was right, but
it didn't help Harry's agitation any. Snape was also right about him needing to
be trained up and not spending time playing chess with his friends.
Then again, if he was doomed to start with, maybe those happy memories with
them was all he was going to get in this life. Those would be better to carry
on than working. Perhaps that's why Dumbledore did things the way he had; to
give Harry more time to be himself, be a child. Sure, it didn't go to plan, but
what ever does?
Something occurred to him. "Wait." Harry ran up the stairs to his room. He
heard Hermione and Ron bickering. At least Ron was on his side. He couldn't
blame Hermione's fear but if it was all going to come to a head, today was as
good a day to die as any. Maybe they'd save Draco and even greasy old Snape in
the bargain.
Ron laughed at Lolly under Harry's arm. "Going to make You-Know-Who giggle to
death?"
"Or are you going to infantilize him?" asked Hermione.
"He's bringing it for me," drawled Draco from behind them. "Or at least I
assume that this wasn't just a grand plan to steal my childhood toy."
"DRACO!" Harry whirled around and wrapped his arms around him. Draco had a book
held across his chest which came in contact with Lolly. In spite of the
distractions between them, he was so relieved to have him there. "I thought I
lost you. I thought you were captured... I thought... so many terrible things."
While Harry was too distraught to ask questions, Hermione wasn't. "Where have
you been, Malfoy? Harry could've been killed chasing after you. Snape too."
"I didn't think I'd be gone that long," he answered to Harry, not even
acknowledging the sound from Hermione. His voice remained soft and placid as
they looked into each other's eyes. "You were going to bring me my toy?"
Harry blushed and shrugged. "I thought if they were hurting you... you might
like it."
Draco kissed his forehead and shook his head. "No, I went to the Manor after
owling Mum. We do have books on Horcruxes. The library is organized in its own
fashion-- which means that the rules of logic don't apply."
"A book?" Hermione was instantly interested and moved to where the two boys
were still clutching each other. She pulled the book from between them and when
she opened it, a cascade of mud shot from the book all over her face.
"You should probably let purebloods open that." He smirked.
Hermione wasn't amused. "We don't have time for your little pranks, Malfoy. We
get it; I'm not of pure blood."
"It's not my prank, it's the book's prank, and you did ask. Go wash up." He
picked the book up off of the floor and set it open to the page he wanted.
"Horcruxes are made by murder, it tears the soul apart and then you may take
that half of your soul and put it into something or someone else."
Ron looked over Draco's shoulder and he stood aside for him to read with him.
They crowded Harry out while Hermione huffed about stupid purebloods and books.
"We knew that much Draco."
"This tells you how to do it. And you can actually segment what parts of your
soul that you want to push to the other side. Some emotions and spiritual
impulses don't mix. Love and hate being the most obvious. They're like oil and
water." Draco flipped to a diagram in the book.
"Like salad dressing?" asked Ron.
"That would be the common way you see it-- it separates. So this will make it
easier to separate him from you." Draco smiled at Harry, who sat on the edge of
the fireplace.
"Just one problem."
Draco raised his brows.
"I'd have to kill someone." Harry looked around the room, wondering which of
his friends he could sacrifice.
Allowing Harry to look between them a moment while Hermione and Ron became
steadily more unnerved, Draco finally rolled his eyes. "Harry, you are killing
someone. It's a lot to do all at once, but you can kill Voldemort and make a
Horcrux."
"So... what will I... make it of..." asked Harry.
Hermione interrupted him. "It's been an hour. We need to go."
"But Draco's here now," Harry pointed out.
"Snape isn't back. We can't just leave him. He put his life on the line to save
Malfoy," she argued. Ron didn't appear impressed.
"He's right. I said I'd be there in an hour, let's go." Harry started to the
fireplace in a rush and Draco grabbed him by the back of the collar.
"Let's go... slowly. Quietly. See what we're up against and if there's a trap.
One of you needs to stay here. Granger? You'd be the most likely to know how to
reopen this if they close it, right?"
Hermione did not appear to be pleased with taking orders from Draco, but she
was the most likely to be able to do that.
"I have to go as I know how to make the Horcruxes work. Ron, you're lookout.
Harry, you're bait."
"Hermione, try and contact the Order," Harry ordered. "Please?" he added,
seeing her disgruntled look. She nodded.
 
 
Ron climbed into the Floo first, then Draco and then Harry. Emerald flames
plumed at Harry's direction of where to go and they were in Snape's room.
Quickly they formed a line against the wall and after checking the corridor and
finding no one in it, they crept out.
They gestured in nods and meaningful blinks and winks. Though this had never
been worked out, they understood one another. Their wands were at the ready as
the slipped down the stone wall corridors. There were so many doors, doors that
could lead to everything and nothing and probably did. It felt like a maze if
only because it was straight and long, but you never felt like you got
anywhere. Ron stopped them in front of one of the doors. Harry heard voices.
"We will hear them when they come, Severus. Alarmed about the younger Malfoy,"
the high, cold voice said. "They will come on angry feet."
"But it has been an hour, My Lord. We have no idea where Draco has gone to. He
could show up there."
"That would be poor luck for you, Severus. I promised you could own the boy
should this work, but if he is combating alongside them then I will have no
choice. Now, be gone and monitor your room."
Harry unfurled his invisibility cloak just in time to keep them from being
seen. On the bright side, it would seem that Snape wasn't in any danger. Draco
didn't seem terribly impressed with the notion of being owned.
"What should we do?" asked Harry after Snape had gone down the hall.
"We'd definitely have the element of surprise right now," Draco pointed out.
"On his turf," Ron added.
"I'm not sure that there will ever be a chance like this again. He's expecting
us, but he thinks he'd hear us and he hasn't. He's alone in his study. We
should end this now," said Harry.
"So this is it?" asked Ron, finally coming in. "I'll go in first, get the first
round. You two... get ready with the... Horcrux... thing."
It was a crazy, lousy plan, but it was their plan.
Harry and Draco flanked Ron and Ron hexed open the door.
Lord Voldemort was sitting on a large throne-like chair. It was square at the
bottom and then fanned out in a complete circle covered in serpents, metal
serpents that writhed and wriggled behind him. "Finally, you have gathered the
courage to come."
Harry brought up his wand. "I've come to kill you. Avada Kedavra." The green
bolt of light struck the empty chair, setting it on fire.
"Oooh, but it's not that simple, is it?" Harry heard the smooth voice behind
him and he whirled around. But he was gone. Again. Behind him, he heard a word
that filled him with that sick, sinking feeling when you realize your mistake.
"Crucio!"
"Protego!" Ron's shielding charm mitigated the pain at least somewhat, or maybe
that's just what Harry fancied as he spilled to the dusty, stone floor. He
heard Draco shout something unfamiliar and suddenly the pain dulled and ebbed
away.
"Good, but slow Malfoy. I could help you with that." Voldemort was standing in
front of his throne, Draco's wand was swishing, his eyes unfocused with intent.
"Stupefy!" Ron shouted.
A loud pop sounded near Draco, obfuscated by the loud roar from his wand as a
putrid orange flame decimated Voldemort's throne, again barely a second too
late. Harry rolled to his feet just in time to see Voldemort grab Draco from
behind. He twisted Draco's wrist around so that his wand pointed at his own
face. Draco shook visibly.
"Very dark magic, Malfoy. Your father would be proud. I could teach you more.
Better spells. There is only so much you can learn from books, my boy." After a
pause where Draco didn't budge, Voldemort purred, "Imperio." The spell poured
from Draco's own wand. "Now, kill Potter."
Draco pointed his wand at Harry, but to everyone's evident surprise, he stomped
Voldemort's foot and tried to jerk away. Unfortunately, the gambit proved
fruitless. Voldemort didn't even flinch. Instead, he whipped Draco's wrist
around again. "Foolish boy. Now you shall know the meaning of disfigurement."
"No!" Harry started forward, but Ron grabbed his upper arm. Apparating to just
before Voldemort and Draco, he grabbed Draco's wand and threw it to the ground.
In a startlingly quick movement, Voldemort pitched Draco to the side and
grabbed Harry in his stead, whipping him around to face Ron.
Scrambling to the floor, Draco grabbed his wand and Apparated, Lolly, book and
all to a few feet from Ron. He was wild-eyed when he recognised the position
he'd left Harry in.
"The tides have turned, Potter. Choose which of your friends you wish to see
die first," Voldemort hissed, tightening his grasp on Harry's waist,
sickeningly clammy skin radiating through his t-shirt.
This was the end. It wasn't how he had ever foreseen it. Part of him held out
hope that someone would come to their aid, but he had the sinking feeling that
his luck had finally run out. Ron and Draco looked back at him helplessly. "I
love you, Ron." Lolly obscured the book Draco was clutching to his chest. "And
I love you, Draco. I love you both so much. I'm so sorry."
"I love you, too Harry. If we have to... well, I'm glad we're together." Ron
turned to Draco and gave him a quick nod. "I love you, too Draco. It's been...
well, you make Harry happy and... we tried."
Whether Draco was frightened of near death or Ron's assertion that he loved
him, it was hard for Harry to tell. Draco looked back and forth between them,
and then to Voldemort, which made him shrink back.
"Your choice is clear, then," said Voldemort, pointing his wand past Harry's
head at Draco.
"I love you, Harry!" Draco said in a panicked voice, clutching Lolly against
his chest. Harry wondered if this was a last-minute gambit to add a precious
few seconds to his life.
Draco's eyes were glassy and his face pinking. "I mean, I think I do. I don't
really know. It's... I... this isn't how I ever wanted... I just needed more
time. More... I thought we'd..." he trailed off and looked pleadingly into
Harry's eyes. "Time."
"It's fine, Harry. Choose me to go first." Ron stood proudly, chest out, ready
to die.
"I love you, Ron!" Draco babbled. Harry was rather surprised by this, and while
he wanted to doubt the conveniently-timed sincerity, Draco certainly didn't
have to admit anything at this point.
Ron rolled his eyes initially but then graciously nodded and gave Draco a weak
smile in return.
"Choose," Voldemort ordered.
How was he supposed to choose? Draco was so scared and Ron was ready, but Harry
couldn't pick one to die before the other. He didn't want either to die. Not
for him, not for any reason. "I can't. I won't."
In response, Voldemort gurgled. Gurgled? He looked at Draco, whose eyes were
narrowed at the spot behind him. Voldemort's grip on him tightened and then
slackened. Harry looked to Ron, who was staring just as keenly at Voldemort.
Harry jerked away from the man's grasp and whirled around. The movement
unbalanced Voldemort, and he tumbled onto his arse. His skin appeared to be
disintegrating, blood the angry dry colour of a clot pumped through easily
defined veins. It looked like it was boiling.
Voldemort's face plumped and reddened. A blood vessel near his flat nose burst
and the air hissed with heat and the smell of boiled copper permeated the room.
Screaming, Voldemort dropped his wand and shrieked at his spindly hands that
resembled veined sausages. "What did you do to me, boy?"
"Quick, kill him!" Draco sat a couple of feet away from the body and was
opening the book. Lolly sat next to Voldemort as if in mockery.
"Malfoy, he's dying already." Ron glared at Voldemort, but his visage was
tinged with sympathy for his obvious pain.
"It is no matter, I will return," Voldemort gasped.
"Which is why Harry needs to kill him now, before he's dead and then Harry has
to kill someone else." Rolling his eyes, Draco leafed through the book till he
found the correct page.
"What?" Harry's question was echoed by Ron and Voldemort's. "If he's dying then
why would I need to kill anyone but myself after this?"
Draco pointed on the spot on his forehead where Harry's mark was. "Horcruxes
are made when you commit murder. It splits your soul. If we split your soul
right, then we can put V-V-" Draco looked at the suffering man, but still dared
not say his name. "His soul into a Horcrux and destroy it without killing you."
"What would you use as a--" Harry looked at Lolly who had fallen on her side.
It was Draco's toy, his childhood, what his mum brought him. Clearly it had
great value to Draco, and he was willing to give it up for him. Harry was
touched.
Shrugging, Draco said, "I haven't been sleeping with her much lately, anyway."
He blushed and paid closer attention to the book.
"What book is that?" Voldemort was lying on the hardwood floor, blood was
leaking from several ruptures. Lolly's white fur was tainted with the boiling
blood. Draco wriggled back to avoid scalding.
"You left it with my father," said Draco, holding it up triumphantly.
"You couldn't have found my other..." Red eyes wide in comprehension, Voldemort
made his final attempt to do damage, lunging at Draco.
"Avada Kedavra!" The spell was instantaneously out of Harry's mouth. He was a
murderer.
Draco picked up chanting immediately, his wand flourished in the air and Harry
felt a rush of anxiety as he saw many copies of himself in varying shades of
translucence. Some were very, very dark, and some were shining and bright like
a Patronus. Draco summoned together the darker aspects. The language he spoke
was unfamiliar but Harry's soul, or the fragments of it, seemed to speak the
language and were having a conversation.
Standing, Draco's tone became terse, almost threatening. Harry looked to Ron,
who was staring in utter fascination at the proceedings. It was a relief that
he wasn't the only one in the dark. Out of the circle of his darker selves
formed a coiled, angry snake with bright eyes and huge fangs. It grew larger,
crowding the room with its influence. Draco paled.
"It's all right, Draco. We're here." Harry didn't know what to say to him to
soothe him, but that appeared to work.
He watched as Draco steeled himself and pointed his wand at the blood soaked
unicorn. Her fur was matted, tufts had turned pink through soaking and she
suddenly looked much more menacing than friendly. Draco gave the command two
more times before the thing started to respond and funnel itself into Lolly.
Harry closed his eyes as he felt the lighter reflections of himself, along with
the darker came together, pushing into him, each with the force of life,
pushing his body with the force of each reentry. He opened his eyes just in
time to see the last of the serpent coil into Lolly and Draco collapse.
"Draco!" Snape's voice had never been more unwelcome. He rushed to Draco's
side.
His limbs wouldn't cooperate and Harry felt the odd disorienting sensation just
before the pain in his knees told him he was falling down himself. "Ron...
don't let him...."
But Ron was looking to the door. Harry managed to turn his head enough to see
Remus and Tonks rushing through, red hair flashing behind them signaling that
the Weasleys were also there. The Order. Now he could sleep.
--
Harry awoke to Ron and Hermione bickering over his bed. Some things never
changed. He listened to the argument that seemed to stem from Ron's lingering
gaze on Tonks's arse.
"If he's grinning, he's awake." Ron grabbed Harry's arm and shook him
playfully.
"I'm not grinning, I'm wincing." Opening his eyes to the familiar surroundings
of his room at Grimmauld Place, Harry was grateful he wasn't at St. Mungo's.
"Malfoy?"
"He's asleep, but he woke up a few hours ago demanding tea and biscuits so I
assume he's fine." Ron grinned, although Hermione was still shooting him death
glares.
"How long have I--"
"A few days. You missed most of the celebrations, I'm afraid." Hermione eyed
Ron. "Some of us had too much butterbeer and got--"
Ron piped up with, "But the brilliant part is that the Healers were willing to
come here so you wouldn't have to wake up at St. Mungo's."
Harry grinned and nodded. "So, how did we... I mean... he just... fell apart?"
Sitting up, Hermione looked as if she'd been waiting to show off her knowledge.
"The best that we could deduce from what Ron told us was that the blood that
Voldemort had infected himself with when he took it from you responded to the
bonds of the love you three shared. There being power in a certain number,
three must've been the one that activated that old magic." Quite pleased with
herself, she prattled on. "It's almost ironic that Voldemort's fascination with
numbers ended up his undoing as well as his lack of understanding of love or
blood sacrifice. Three is as powerful a number as seven according to ancient
texts."
"That's..." Harry started.
"I know, I'm not sure what to think," said Ron, scrunching his face in mock
disgust. "Malfoy loves me."
"That's weird, too, but not what I meant." Harry smirked. "I suppose three
Horcruxes would've been too easy."
"Be glad he didn't choose thirteen," Hermione teased.
Harry chuckled half-heartedly. "I guess I should also be glad you got a hold of
the Order."
Hermione gave a true wince. "No, I didn't."
"Who did, then?"
"Snape." Hermione took a breath. "I was about to summon the Order when Snape
came flying through the Floo and sent out his Patronus, which is a wolf, isn't
that weird?" Harry waved his hand. It was weird, although if he were afraid of
Lupin, maybe he thought another wolf would protect him? Harry couldn't be arsed
to care right now. "Anyway, they all showed up in minutes and flooded in."
"Which side is he on?" Harry asked.
After a moment's silences and traded glances, Ron answered, "His own, I'd
wager."
There appeared to be something else they wanted to say, but right now Harry
wasn't sure he could handle it. He wanted his life back to normal, or at least
back to the magically normal way it had been. Or what he'd at least thought of
as normal. Maybe what could be normal without a bloodthirsty dark wizard hell-
bent on killing him would be. The thought of not having this looming
responsibility over his head and just concentrating on his studies (or not
concentrating) like everyone else cheered him. "So we can go back to Hogwarts?"
Hermione and Ron exchanged glances. That was never a good sign. "Not yet."
"Is there still a Hogwarts?"
"Of course, Harry, don't be silly." Hermione shook her head, her bushy hair
blocked the light and Harry blinked to get his eyes to adjust. "It's just
that... well, some of the Death Eaters escaped before the Order arrived and
there have been a few riots. It's not safe for you to go out just yet."
Harry's heart sank. He thought once he'd killed Voldemort that this would be
all over. He brought his hands up to his face. "It's never going to end, is
it?"
"Don't worry, mate. The Ministry is rounding them up. Kingsley brought in
Bellatrix just yesterday. Nasty bit of work, that one. Just needs some time to
settle down." Ron patted Harry's elbow.
"Yeah," Harry said, feeling the weight of his stunted victory oppressing him.
"I need s'more rest."
"Harry, don't let it discourage--" Hermione started.
"Please."
He watched Ron tug her arm and they both left. Harry rolled onto his side,
pulled the covers up and wept softly. He was a murderer and still the world
wasn't safe.
***** Chapter 12 *****
"I'm sorry if the notion of you keeping me as a pet doesn't inspire me with the
want to live with you." Draco's snotty tone floated into the hall as Harry
passed the drawing room on his way down to what was to be a celebration of his
recovery and victory. He paused and flattened himself next to the door, waiting
to hear Snape's response.
"Draco, I have told you over and over again that it was a mere pretense so that
he would not kill you. The whole of the Order believes me, why do you refuse
to?"
Harry frowned and stared at his feet. Brilliant. The Order believed Snape was
on their side. He supposed it looked that way since he was the one who
contacted them, but not even Draco had been sure.
"The whole of the Order wasn't buggering themselves with a feather duster for
your amusement. Or was that V-- You-Know-Who's idea, too? Was he there
watching? Had to keep your cover by having me violate myself?"
Daring a quick peek, Harry saw Draco's arms flailing, his face red and blotchy,
as if he were going to cry. Snape's expression was unreadable. His arms crossed
and he remained silent for a good long while. Harry ducked back.
"No, Draco. That wasn't..." He stopped and Harry peeked again, worried that
Snape had resorted to whispering. "Being amongst the Death Eaters, I'm afraid,
does bring out my baser instincts."
Draco looked up at Snape, his hair fell from his face and Harry scanned his
visage for any trace of doubt. He was just as unreadable as Snape. "So now that
you're not with them, you want me to live with you. You swear that wouldn't
happen again."
"You are like a son to me, Draco." Harry's eyes widened as Snape reached out to
caress Draco's cheek.
"No."
"What?" Snape and Draco both turned to face Harry in shock.
"No, he's not going to live with you. He's staying here." Harry looked between
them, daring someone to contradict him.
"Potter, no one's asked you--"
Speaking to Draco rather than to Snape, as he's who he wanted to convince,
Harry said, "No one has to ask me. He can stay here until things clear up.
There is no place safer than this, Remus will be staying here and he's putting
a new Fidelius Charm on the house."
"Draco doesn't want to stay somewhere with a werewolf," Snape said.
"Draco can speak for himself." Draco looked between Harry and Snape, not
appearing pleased with his choices. It was written all over his face; Draco
wanted to go home with his mum. It just wasn't possible now, as the Death
Eaters had all but destroyed the Manor, according to the Daily Prophet. Already
people had been hired to rebuild, but it would take weeks to put it back to how
it was and guarantee its safety.
"Draco, I want you to stay here." That appeal didn't appear to make much of a
dent, although Harry didn't think Draco truly wanted to live with Snape. He
just needed a reason not to. "You saved my life. I owe you."
Snape scoffed, but Draco smiled and nodded. "That's true. You do owe me. I
suppose it makes sense for me to stay here-- life debt and all."
"I've saved both of your skins..." Snape started. Draco silenced him with his
hand.
"I'm staying here, and that's that."
"What about your mother?" asked Snape.
"Mrs Malfoy can stay here, too," Harry offered.
Draco beamed. "It's settled, then."
"Narcissa Malfoy will not want to stay in this place."
"It was the Black family home. She'll be fine. I don't think she'd be happier
at Spinner's End, and she may well prefer to stay at St. Mungo's. My decision
is made, and it's final."
Snape narrowed his eyes and looked as if he wanted to say something more, but
gave it up for hopeless. "Tell the Order that I regretfully had to take my
leave early."
Harry smiled and waved.
--
There seemed little point in pretense anymore. Narcissa had decided to remain
at St. Mungo's. Ron and Hermione knew they were together. The whole of the
Weasley clan appeared to know it. Remus didn't, but when did Draco ever care
what Remus Lupin thought? Still, Draco stubbornly waited until the middle of
the night to slip into Harry's bed. They'd been kissing a few minutes, sliding
their bodies together with their hands on each other's pricks when Harry
finally broke the kissing. "I want to... do it."
"Put your mouth on it again?" Draco's voice was leaden with hope and breathy
with desire.
"I mean... yes... well, no... I mean... I want to... you know..." he whispered,
sliding his hand down Draco's side to squeeze his arse. They'd pawed at each
other's arses in the course of snogging, and Harry had ventured his finger
there when he put his mouth on Draco, but they had yet to speak of it. Just as
they had yet to speak of what any of this meant.
"Oh. Um... Oh." Draco rolled onto his back as if his arse needed protecting.
Harry could positively feel him clenching. He'd never felt like more of a
pervert.
"It's just that... well, I'd like to... it's supposed to... you know... feel
good." To help make his point, he caressed his hand over Draco's cock slowly.
"It didn't feel good when I had the... feather duster...there." Closing his
eyes, Draco crocked his hips forward automatically, arching into Harry's touch.
It was Draco's weak spot, and Harry fully intended on exploiting it. He
wondered if that was wrong, but decided that if it were wrong, no one would
ever put it anywhere.
"That's a feather duster. It's bound to be loads better to have it in there,
otherwise people wouldn't do it." It was as sound a reason as Harry's hormonal
mind could piece together and really, to him it sounded completely reasonable.
Had Draco's expression not been so blissful because of the wanking, he might've
looked confused. "I suppose that makes... sense..." he breathed. Grabbing Harry
by the back of the head, he pushed his face between his legs. "I'm not sure it
would fit."
"If I put my mouth on it, can I at least try?" Harry had the distinct feeling
he was begging, but he preferred to think of it as bargaining. He breathed
through the silky pyjama pants to tease Draco, hoping that would sell the idea.
It worked. "Yes, fine..." Draco whined. He released Harry's hair to shove his
pyjama pants down, kicking out of them as he pulled his top off.
This seemed like a really bad time to ask Draco to shower, so Harry decided to
rough it. He'd faced down Voldemort; certainly a less-than-pristine-prick
wasn't going to kill him. Starting with long, slow licks, he found that other
than a bit salty, Draco didn't taste much different this way. He settled in
between Draco's legs after briefly pausing to pull his t-shirt off.
Keeping his mind on the idea of being inside of Draco, and how great that was
going to be, he sucked the cockhead into his mouth and played his fingers over
the shaft. This time, he wasn't going to test Draco by putting his fingers in
there. He'd just wait. He didn't want to deter him.
Harry tried to keep his teeth covered with his lips, while keeping the suction.
It was difficult, but he was mostly managing it, although he was making loud
slurping sounds. This didn't seem to bother Draco at all, as he was bucking his
hips forward, nearly gagging Harry. Draco made a few more loud gasps, covering
his mouth with his arm when it appeared that he couldn't keep himself quiet.
Feeling his mouth fill with the warm, slippery fluid, Harry pulled away and
pointed the cock from his face sagely. He swallowed what was in his mouth and
smeared the rest into Draco's belly as he continued to pull at his shimmering,
wet prick.
Now, Harry was nervous.
As much as he wanted to do this, he had little clue how to go about it. Amongst
Dudley's various muscle and wrestling magazines had been one rather worn copy
of a magazine that appeared to be wrestling of a different sort altogether.
Harry didn't remember much about it, other than the expressions on their faces
and a vague notion of a man on all fours with another behind him. He didn't
think it would be a good idea to explain to Draco how he'd come by this
knowledge, he just preferred to allow him to believe Harry was just that
worldly. Besides, he was pretty sure his voice would waver.
After allowing Draco a few moments to catch his breath, Harry pulled on Draco's
hip to get him to roll over. Seeming to understand that he needed to get on his
knees, Draco did so, leaving his arse up, pink hole exposed. Harry stared for a
moment and then traced his finger over it. This was it. He would put himself in
there and they wouldn't be virgins anymore.
Draco was trembling as much as he was. Harry wanted to say something to
reassure him, but what could he say? He got up onto his knees and slid his hand
over his cock a few times. It was hard enough already, it felt as if every
nerve in his body was concentrated just there, his heart hammering a thundering
pulse between his ears to the tip of his prick.
Placing his cock against the opening, he was just about to push when Draco's
hand appeared on his abdomen to stop him. "Wait."
"What?" Harry was aware of just how high and tight his voice was. He didn't
want to sound that tense, but he was just about to.... and then he was stopped
and... Somehow he was even more scared than he'd been at the start.
"Snape put something on the... erm... duster. Lotion or something. So it
wouldn't... um... so it would go easier." Draco pulled forward to get his arse
out of harm's way as if Harry would've thrust into him mid-protest.
"Where did he get the lotion?" Harry was feeling wild at this moment. Lotion.
Where was lotion? Lotion in the bathroom? Hand lotion? Face lotion? He didn't
care. He ached with the want to do this and now lotion was holding him up.
"There was a spell, I guess. It came from his wand." Draco looked over his
shoulder at Harry, and was that little asshole smirking?
Harry squeezed his cock, willing it not to be quite so rigid in Draco's sight.
"What was the spell?"
"Dunno, he didn't say it aloud." Yes, Draco was definitely smirking.
"There's lotion in the bathroom." Maybe it wasn't the right lotion, but it was
pretty clear that Draco wasn't interested in helping. Harry hopped off of the
bed, scampered into the bathroom and very nearly unseated the cupboard to get
at the lotion. Once found, he brought it into the bedroom and squeezed way more
than was likely necessary onto his hand. He held his hand up to show it to
Draco and then smeared it over his cock as he resettled on the bed.
Draco nodded and moved back to his position on all fours. His head sagged
between his shoulders. "He said I should try to relax."
Can we stop talking about Snape right now? Harry bit back the urge to snap, he
knew Draco was probably just nervous. This might well hurt; Harry had no idea,
really. The men in the magazine seemed pretty happy about it, so he assumed
everyone should be. "All right," he whispered, as much for himself as for
Draco. As a last minute bit of affection, he slid his hand over Draco's back,
already filmed in nervous sweat. He kissed his spine and then lined himself up
again.
Still holding his cock in place, afraid it would slip, he pressed in. There was
a whirl of sucking heat, mostly concentrated around the head of his cock. He
could really only get halfway in, but that was all it took. As excited as he'd
been and with the overwhelming feeling of sucking flesh around him, Harry lost
himself to the feeling of near-weightlessness. He shuddered, biting his lip, as
he felt his body tighten and the rush of release. It only took one half thrust
and he was coming. He'd be embarrassed later, but for now, he was filled with
nothing but an intense feeling of excitement. They were no longer virgins, and
he'd been inside of Draco Malfoy.
At least briefly.
When he opened his eyes again, he saw Draco a few feet from where he'd been,
clinging to the headboard and staring at him with wide-wet eyes in incredulity.
Harry looked down at his cock in his hand, still dribbling seed and then back
up at Draco.
"Bloody hell, what did you put in me?" whispered Draco harshly.
"I... just... my..." Harry flushed brightly. "It didn't feel good?"
By Draco's expression, Harry guessed it must not have. He must've done it
wrong. Sitting back on his heels, he stared dejectedly at his cock and the
darkening wet spots on the sheet.
"...no..."
"Oh." He didn't know what to say. It felt incredible to him. He didn't know
what he'd done wrong, but then, he didn't know much about this to begin with.
Worse yet, he didn't know who to ask. Obviously Snape would know, but he was
the last person he would ask. "Well, um... next time you can do me?"
"I don't want to hurt you." Draco had come undone from the headboard and was
easing his way back onto his side of the bed.
"Did it really hurt that much?" Harry reached for his wand and charmed away the
mess on the sheets. He didn't want to hurt, he wasn't a masochist, but fair was
fair and he supposed he deserved it.
"I... I don't know. It's like... it hurts like after you've... waited a long
time to go to the bathroom." He pulled the covers up to his shoulders and Harry
slid next to him. Neither of them had gotten dressed again, which pleased
Harry. He loved feeling the close warmth of Draco's skin against his.
"That doesn't sound... good. I'm sorry. I must not... be doing it right." He
held Draco tightly, happy that he didn't flee. He still felt a happy flutter in
his stomach that they'd done it, even if it had hurt. They'd done it together.
It would always be Draco he remembered for all of these firsts, and that
thrilled him in a way he couldn't place. His mind drifted to what Hermione had
said, then to that moment with Voldemort when Draco said he loved him, when he
thought they'd have more time. Now they had plenty of time, nothing but time,
if they were going to be stuck here a while. "I can find out how to do it
better."
"That was... well, I guess... well, that's why he was using the feather
duster... or why he said he was. That it was... that um... I needed to be
worked open... to relax when um... so, I guess... well, he wanted to put his
finger there, but I didn't want him to touch me, so..." Harry clutched Draco
tightly. He wasn't sure if Draco was upset or just embarrassed. Either way,
Harry didn't want to hear any more about Snape, although the point that perhaps
starting small was wise had been made.
"Shh... all right. We'll... find the feather duster." Harry felt Draco tuck his
head against his chest. Perhaps that was a bit coarse. "Or something. You can
try it on me."
Draco tightened his arms around Harry, but didn't respond. The subject was
closed, which was good as Harry was too spent to say much more.
--
By now, Harry was used to the routine. He'd've been more surprised if Draco had
been there that morning. After the real sex debacle, he counted himself lucky
that Draco was around at all. Maybe he shouldn't have, but it did look like
Draco had quite a fright.
He followed his nose downstairs after cleaning up and throwing on some
clothing. He wasn't sure who all was living here and who wasn't at this point,
but it would seem that Remus was definitely living here. He observed him
sitting at the table, hunched over his fry up and tea. Past needs and current
wants collided. Maybe it would be overstepping the boundaries of their
friendship, but Harry had seen Remus as a father figure in the past, at least.
It wasn't as if he needed the full up chat on the birds and the bees, just a
crash course in buggery.
Flushing at the crudeness of even his thoughts, he took a seat across from
Remus, who smiled at him and politely summoned tea and a plate for him to serve
himself from. Harry thanked him briefly and stirred his tea, pondering how to
bring this up. He supposed it should be done delicately, as he had no idea what
Remus's sexuality really was. Well, he supposed he did know, as he'd at least
semi-consented to dating Tonks. He'd gotten a strange vibe that Remus and
Sirius had been more than friends, but as that avenue was closed off, it didn't
seem to matter much.
"Bee in your bonnet, Harry?" Remus set his fork down after picking at his food.
He folded his napkin and set it just under his plate.
"I'm sorry?" Caught by surprise, Harry's mouth was somewhat full still, but he
managed to make himself heard.
Remus chuckled. "You just look as if you want to ask me something. It's all
right, you know. You can ask me whatever you need to."
It took a moment to finish chewing, but when he had, he set his utensils down.
He wasn't terribly hungry anyway. After a glance to the door, he looked at
Remus. "Even if it's about sex?" he whispered.
His smile faded, but only just a bit. Remus tilted his head to the side and
nodded. "I'll admit that my experience with the fairer sex is a bit lacking,
but I will share with you what I know."
I knew it! While Remus's smile was fading, Harry's grew. Brilliant! If Remus's
experience with females was limited, that must mean that he's been with more
men. Naturally. "That's all right. I was rather in need of knowledge pertaining
to... er... experience with the male sex. More specifically... how to um... do
it so that it doesn't hurt."
Remus paled and his eyes widened. He grabbed the edge of the table and stared
at Harry in utter shock. His mouth moved, but no sound came out.
"Remus?"
"What makes you think I'd know anything about that?" asked Remus, his voice
high and tight, almost like Draco's could be, only somehow fraught with more
tension.
"I... you said... it's just that... well... I don't know, it's... would...
I..." Harry sputtered as Remus stood up and began to pace. "I'm sorry?" he
offered quietly.
Remus was just about to answer when Molly and the twins came down from the
stairs. "Is everything all right?" Molly inquired.
"Harry was just asking me about... sex," Remus blurted.
The twins guffawed before covering their mouths. Molly looked away from Harry
and Remus while Harry tried to shrink back into his chair, praying that he
could make himself invisible.
"Well, Harry's a teenager," said Molly evenly. "Of course he'd be curious,
Remus. There is no need to fret."
"Sex with another boy!" Remus exclaimed.
Harry wanted a hole in the Earth to swallow him away, never to return.
"As he's been seeing a boy, that would make sense." Molly began cleaning up,
not looking at anyone. Fred caught Harry's eye and winked at him and pointed to
the pantry. The twins edged towards it as Harry wiped his mouth off. Remus
began to say something else, but Molly cut him off, "Oh Remus, don't pretend to
be so shocked. Everyone knows he was barking up the right tree."
Part of Harry wanted to stay and confirm his suspicions about Remus and Sirius,
but the twins were waving him into the cupboard and it seemed like a good time
to escape. He hadn't expected Remus to react that way, but he supposed Remus
was expecting questions about Voldemort or transformation. He didn't know, all
he did know was that now he was in the dark with two impish twins who were
ready to impart their wisdom.
"Buggering Malfoy, eh?"
"Or trying to," Fred joined.
Harry cleared his throat. "Well, it didn't go so well last night...."
"When it comes to the fine art of buggery, there is no such thing as too much
lubrication."
"Or preparation."
"Or relaxation."
"Well said."
"I agree."
Not sure who was saying what in the dimness of the cupboard, Harry felt a
little dizzy. "So, lubrication? We used hand lotion..."
"Oh no, no. In a pinch it might do, but you need something slicker."
"Quicker."
"Thicker."
"You need this."
A tube was pressed into Harry's hand, and he instinctively took it. He tried to
read the label, something about gliding? "So this and... preparation?"
"Yes, fingers."
"One, then two."
"Three is key. Maybe four."
"If you're a whore."
"You just wanted to rhyme. Four is excessive unless you're really massive. Are
you massive, Harry?"
It was too dark to know if he was being leered at, but he felt like he was,
which made him blush. "I don't think so. Just average. So, three fingers?"
"Slowly, though. You have to wait till the person receiving is relaxed enough."
"Really, it's about relaxation. Who's being buggered?"
"Me, I think. We tried... the other way, but..." Harry blushed again, hopefully
no one noticed. He pushed the tube into his pocket.
"You could practice."
"In the shower."
"Or the bathroom."
"Get used to the feeling."
Harry cleared his throat. "Is it... that much to get used to?"
The twins looked at one another and then shrugged. "Not so bad as the rumour
would have you believe, but it doesn't feel great at first. There's a spot
inside that feels good if you put your finger in and bring it forward, like
this," George demonstrated. At least Harry thought it was George. Harry
mimicked the movement. "Exactly. It's something hard there. You won't know to
the touch, but you'll know you found it by the noises."
That would perhaps explain the picture he'd seen of the men who seemed to be
enjoying it so much. Someone had to be enjoying this, right? "So, practice on
myself, finger like this," he said, crooking it for them, "and it should go all
right?"
"It'll still hurt a bit; just... try to push out when he's pushing in. It
helps. Or so I've heard." The twins snickered.
"How do you two know so much?"
Before Harry could get an answer, the twins were out of the cupboard with Molly
asking them what they were doing. "Just trying to make Harry feel more at home-
- you know he grew up in a cupboard...." With that deliberately rude statement,
Molly was on them and Harry was able to sneak out of the kitchen.
--
Painful wasn't the right word for this. The Cruciatus Curse was painful.
Falling off of his broom was painful. This was just... uncomfortable. Awkward.
Awkward was the perfect word to express how Harry felt with his cheek pressed
against Draco's silk-covered pillow with his arse chilled in the air with
Draco's greased fingers sliding in and out of him. It had ached in a strange
way at first, but he remembered what the twins had said about pushing out when
Draco was pushing his fingers in, and it did seem to help.
Draco, bless him, was trying to find the spot inside of him that was supposed
to feel good. In his anxiousness to find it, he'd been poking rather
erratically to the point that Harry kind of wanted to get this over with;
especially since Draco had rather maliciously forced him to shower before he'd
put his mouth on it. Harry was spent and now in what he thought to be a
singularly un-erotic position. Just what were those men in that magazine doing
differently? Maybe it was better when you got older.
"They said something was going to feel good?" Draco asked for the hundredth
time.
"Yes, they said to curl your finger like this." Harry curled his finger at
Draco... for the hundredth time. He had two fingers inside of him, curling and
pressing and nothing felt good or bad in particular-- just stretched in a way
that made the sweat prickle on his skin like the sudden onset of a fever.
"Like that?"
Fuck it. "Oooh, yes, like that Draco." He pushed back against Draco's fingers
praying that he wouldn't get any more neurotic. Harry hoped he was a good
enough actor. "More... I want you to do it. Just do it."
Draco's fingers stopped and he sighed. "You're faking." He huffed and sat back
on his heels and Harry looked at the fuzzy glasses-less form behind him. "Am
not."
"Do you really think we've been fooling around all this time and I don't know
what you sound like when you moan?" He flipped his hand around so that his palm
was no longer up and continued to work his two fingers into Harry.
Feeling a third one enter, Harry groaned and hid his face against his forearm.
It wasn't a good groan or a bad groan, really. He still wasn't sure what to
make of this sensation. Then he felt something press just behind his cock. It
was a brush of finger or something, but it was nice. Harry pushed back into it,
hoping that it would happen again.
The movement on the bed indicated that Draco was sitting up again. "Mmm..."
Harry moaned as he felt it again. He wriggled his hips against Draco's fingers,
arching his back and pushing back in a way that he hoped would scratch that
itch deep inside of him. It happened again and he gasped as he fisted his hands
into the pillow.
"Curled forward... just the other way," Draco grumbled. Harry barely heard it.
He'd had Draco's fingers inside of him long enough at this point that he could
focus purely on this new feeling. He hissed through his teeth as the need for
more stroking there led him to be careless and his arse pinched at the awkward
way Draco's fingers were entering him.
He reached to his stiffening cock and pulled at it a few times, feeling that
delicious pressure just behind his prick that seemed to be forcing his need to
come again. Distantly he could feel Draco's lips on his spine, the warmth of
his body against him and the hardness of Draco's cock poking at the cleft of
his arse. Draco wasn't pulling his fingers out; he was going to finger fuck him
into coming and Harry was far from objecting.
Hand a blur on his cock as he pulled it, Harry watched the sudden spurt of
white from the tip of his cock, spilling down over his fingers and dribbling
onto the sheets. He was working hard against Draco's fingers, his body wet with
effort of his second orgasm and the seizure of fresh experience. When Draco's
fingers slipped out of him, he felt empty, his muscles clenching, stretching in
a solemn ache, a need to be filled.
It didn't take but a moment for Draco to line himself up with Harry's opening.
The entry was a little rough, but he finally pushed solidly into Harry with a
long, slow inhale. He just held him there, wrapping his arms around Harry's
waist, either letting Harry get used to the feeling, or adjusting himself.
Harry smiled. He was exhausted, but he could certainly identify with that
sudden, dizzying sensation of being inside, surrounded by lush warmth for the
first time and never wanting it to end.
Harry decided to help Draco by canting his hips forward and then pushing back
slowly, experimenting with the way their bodies could move together like this.
Draco whimpered and held tightly to Harry, grabbing his hips to stop him,
sinking his nails in if Harry didn't stop right away. This was worth waiting
for, even if it was a little odd feeling, just hearing Draco that helpless,
feeling him so needy as he slid back and then slowly in again, pale lips moving
in a fuzzy ethereal prayer. All at once, Draco's face went bright red and he
pitched forward in an articulated thrust followed by a quick series of hard
pumps and then he fell with his full weight against Harry's back and they both
collapsed against the bed.
Draco slipped his hand over Harry's and wove his fingers between them. Harry
clutched them and sighed happily as he closed his eyes.
--
The next morning Harry awoke with hair in his face, but he wasn't going to get
his hopes up again. It was ridiculous to get all excited only to see that Draco
had stuffed Lolly into his arms.
Except that he'd destroyed Lolly to eliminate the final fragment of Voldemort
not long after he'd awoken. It had been disconcerting to see a piece of himself
bound by the serpentine limbs of Voldemort float from the stiff fluff of the
destroyed toy, but he also felt freed by it. A piece of his soul was going to
be lost by his having to kill Voldemort; it was a sacrifice he was marked to
make since he was born. It was unavoidable. He just hadn't expected to
physically see the part of him floating away like a vaporous mist.
Out of reflex, he brought his hand up to his forehead as if the scar would have
vanished from the simple act of Voldemort's death. Draco yelped.
Harry's eyes flew open to find one of his fingers in Draco's nose. They'd
certainly changed positions since they'd fallen asleep, but Draco was there. It
was morning and Draco Malfoy hadn't skipped out of their bed to wash up. He
checked the clock and it was half ten, well beyond when Draco normally rose.
"You're still here!"
"Ugh, Potter, your breath," Draco whined as he turned his wincing face away.
He didn't care; Draco was just Draco and would be obnoxious. It was hardly the
point. It felt like a victory to have him there, as if it made everything more
real. He grabbed Draco tighter and kissed him, steadfastly ignoring that Draco
was quite right about morning breath. He felt a subtle soreness in his
posterior, but it was a fading ache, a happy reminder of what they'd done.
"You're disgusting," Draco huffed at Harry after their kiss was over, but he
didn't pull away.
"You love me." While Harry knew he was pushing it, he couldn't help himself.
After what they'd done, what they'd been through, he needed to hear it, needed
to know it.
"And delusional." Harry liked to think that Draco's smirk was a fond one rather
than mocking this time.
"No, you love me and you love Ron."
Draco rolled his eyes. "Oh please. I just wanted you to kill Weasley first.
Don't mistake Slytherin cunning with actual feeling, Potter."
Normally this would've dissuaded Harry, but he knew the truth. "No, if you were
just saying that and didn't mean it, it wouldn't have bound our circle of three
in love. Voldemort would've won. Like it or not, you meant it."
Not missing a beat, Draco responded with, "So?"
"So you love me." Harry squeezed him tighter and kissed Draco's face as he
tried to squirm away.
"I need a shower."
"And Ron. You're so full of love, Draco!"
"ARGH!" Releasing Draco, Harry lay on his side and watched him stomp off
petulantly to the bathroom. He waved at Draco when he turned around to glare at
him one last time before slamming the door, memorizing the coy grin on his face
that he didn't think Harry could see.
***** Chapter 13 *****
The next few days passed with little event. Ron was eyeing Harry the next
morning for his strange pacing before he sat at the breakfast table, but Harry
was reassured by Draco taking his hand under the table. Still Draco didn't seem
particularly interested in flaunting their relationship, but he wasn't working
so hard to hide it either. Everyone knew already, so there seemed little point
in even attempting to keep it a secret.
To Harry's surprise, Draco didn't ask to repeat what they'd done, instead
settling back to their groping, frotting, handjobs and blowjobs rather than
sex. He wasn't sure if this was a good or a bad thing. It wasn't as if he could
do it immediately again anyway, perhaps Draco knew that. What kept Harry from
asking was his fear that he wasn't any good at it. Maybe Draco hated it.
He was quite surprised then when he came into their room after a late game of
Wizards chess with Ron to find Draco naked lying face-down on the bed with the
tube of lubricant sitting out on the night stand.
Harry dropped the book he was carrying. "Um..."
Draco peered over his shoulder as he pulled his knees under him. "Just...
well... if you know how to do it now, then... maybe it won't... I just thought
we could try?" He shifted his weight from one knee to the other, uncertain as a
skittish colt.
Rushing to the bed, Harry didn't want to miss this opportunity, although it
took his breath away. After the wrenching feeling of self-doubt over the
physical part of their relationship, this was such a huge affirmation. His
hands shook as he traced his chilly fingers over Draco's back. Gently pushing
him over, Harry turned him around to lying on his back. "Are you sure? It hurt
last time... I don't want to--"
"I know you don't want to hurt me. That's why... well, you seemed to like it
all right and... you wouldn't hurt me on purpose." Draco took Harry's hand and
breathed over it, trying to warm it. He pulled his fingers into his mouth,
licking them sensually, but Draco couldn't quite make eye contact.
It made Harry uneasy. "I wouldn't hurt you, but it does hurt. We can wait."
Allowing Draco to continue suckling his fingers, he slid his other hand through
Draco's hair.
Draco closed his eyes and nuzzled into the touch. He pulled Harry's hand from
his mouth and using both of his hands, pushed it down to his cock. After
stroking himself with Harry's hand a few times, he grabbed the lubricant and
pressed it to Harry's palm.
There was no mistaking that signal, and Harry wasn't sure he had the fortitude
to keep turning Draco down; not when filled with the brief memory of the hot
tightness that surrounded him. He rationalized that Draco had managed to make
it feel good-- good enough that it had forced him to orgasm the second time.
Harry dropped the cap three times while trying to screw it back on after
squeezing most of the contents of the tube onto his fingers. He didn't want it
to hurt. Perhaps he was going overboard, but by now his hands were shaking and
Draco had wrapped both arms over his face. "We really don't have to..."
"Aren't Gryffindors supposed to be brave? Just do it," Draco grumbled, muffled
by his arms.
Exhaling, Harry nodded even though Draco wouldn't see. He tossed the tube aside
and slathered the white cream over his index and middle fingers. Curve forward.
Draco brought his knees up and then opened his legs, splaying open for Harry,
hot pink prick, hard against his pale belly and fuzzy scrotum over the dusty
pink opening. As hard as Draco was breathing, Harry was inhaling just as hard.
What if he hurt him again? Would Draco run screaming from the room? Would that
be the end?
He slid his slick index finger around Draco's opening. That elicited a soft
whimper, so he continued to caress him, spreading the cream lazily around him.
Stretching out over Draco's body, he kissed the arms over Draco's face until
they parted. Harry kissed his face softly, down his elegant nose, over his thin
brows and to the corner of his plush lips. Harry dragged his tongue over
Draco's bottom lip as he finally breached him, index finger sliding in up to
his second knuckle before Draco gasped and Harry stopped.
"Are you all right?" Harry kissed over Draco's damp forehead.
Draco nodded and exhaled slowly as Harry started to remove his finger. "Don't
stop."
Nodding, Harry teased Draco's opening again before sliding his finger into him
again, this time it got the rest of the way in as Harry kissed over his face.
He curled his finger forward, groping around for that spot, watching Draco's
face.
His expression waxed and waned between discomfort and confusion, as if he were
trying to figure out what would feel good. Harry kissed down Draco's blotched
and glistening chest, tasting the saline of his sweat. He settled in between
his legs as he continued to try to find the elusive spot.
Harry tried to remember that Draco mucked around looking for it a while before
he found it, and tried not to be discouraged. Rather than watch the strange
expressions on Draco's face, he decided to tease the flat of his tongue over
Draco's shaft, sliding his hair over his belly as he went. His reward was
Draco's moan. He curled his finger forward a bit more and that's when he felt
it; something bone hard, but also the jolt of Draco's hips.
At first Draco seemed to be trying to dodge it a bit, so Harry moved his finger
with less force, gently brushing the spot. This was the right action, as soon
Draco was cooing and rocking his prick against Harry's cheek as he moved in
time to Harry's stroking.
Nuzzling Draco's prick, Harry squeezed a second finger inside of him, twisting
his wrist a bit to move past the ring of muscles so that he could again assault
that spot inside of him. Draco's cock softened slightly at first, but with the
pressure applied inside of him and the gentle sucking of his balls, he hardened
again.
He was doing it. He was finger fucking Draco, and Draco wasn't screaming or
sobbing. His face was bright red and contorted in a mixture of pleasure and
pain, but he was also clutching the sheets and begging for more. Pulling the
head of Draco's cock into his mouth, Harry tried for a third finger.
Draco grunted at first, and it was nearly impossible to push inside. Harry
waited, stroking the opening, patient as Draco relaxed. He nuzzled and kissed
Draco's shaft and then squeezed in with a smooth push of his hand. Curling his
fingers forward, he teased Draco again, filling him as he lapped at his wet
cock.
Hands twisted in his hair, roughly pushing him against Draco's cock and Harry
opened his mouth to take it in. Draco's wet abdomen dampened his forehead as he
listened to Draco's whining breaths. While fighting against Draco's erratic
movements, he hadn't quite gotten his mouth around Draco when he felt a warm
fluid hit his chin and the corner of his mouth.
He stretched out his tongue to catch as much of it as he could, wanting to
taste him, or taste more of him. "Do it," Draco gasped, still coming against
Harry's neck as he yanked him up by his hair.
Harry pulled his fingers out of him and grabbed his cock to guide it into Draco
as he balanced with his forearm next to Draco's head. He slid in smoothly,
Draco's face went a brighter shade of red than he'd ever seen and his neck
muscles tightened. "Breathe. Push against me," Harry instructed.
Draco's nails dug into his lower back, holding Harry there as he panted, head
thrown back and hair askew on the pillows and matted to his cheeks. He pulled
his hips back and pushed down again, sliding Harry in and out of him with
nearly agonizing slowness. Harry hissed through his teeth and squeezed his eyes
shut, trying not to come yet, but the feeling was so smooth, warm and tight
around him, it made him lightheaded with want.
Again Draco had pulled back and slid onto Harry's cock. He squeezed him tightly
against his body and was lapping the come from his chin and neck. Harry fisted
one hand in the pillow over Draco's head, grabbing hair as well as linen. The
other remained pressed into the mattress for leverage as he worked with Draco's
movements, sliding in and out of him a few more times before the sensation
overwhelmed him and he could hold out no more.
He gasped and bit his bottom lip as he felt the wave of release shudder through
his body, pushing out in hard pulses that threatened to shut him down
completely each time. When the final burst of energy fled him, he collapsed
against Draco in a sweaty wet mess.
"I love you."
"Shut up, Potter."
In spite of Draco's choice of words that might have, for a lesser boy, been
upsetting, Harry heard the tone behind them. Besides, if Draco didn't love him,
then Voldemort would still be alive. "You're a right git, you know that, don't
you?"
"Did you just figure that out?" Draco cupped Harry's face in his hands and
raised his head to look into his eyes. "Seriously, shut up."
Harry grinned and nipped the tip of Draco's nose. "Are you still talking?"
Draco shut his eyes as Harry rolled off of him. He wiggled around till he made
himself comfortable with his cheek on Harry's chest, kissing it before he
settled in-- and didn't speak another word.
--
"What do you want from me?" Draco's shriek sent Harry flying down the stairs to
the kitchen, but Snape's drawl stopped him dead in his tracks just before
passing the threshold of the doorway.
"I don't want anything from you, Draco. I am simply offering you someplace to
stay for a few days should you want it." There was a pause and Harry's gut
twisted at the sound of Draco's choking sob. "I know this news is hard to take.
It happened very quickly. I thought you might wish to spend time with familiar
faces."
Harry had no idea what news would be hard to take. He crept closer and peered
around the door frame. Draco was on his knees in front of the fire, Snape
looked imperious in emerald flame, keeping a stiff upper lip before the boy
breaking down in front of him.
"I want to see my mum, not you," he said with a savagery that Harry wouldn't
have expected given his emotional state.
"She doesn't wish to see you right now." Snape's voice was steely with its
implied sneer; Harry wondered how anyone could be so cold.
Draco tossed his head back, throwing his hair from his twisted face shining
with tears. His chin rose proudly. "I don't wish to see you. Ever again."
Snape's eyes narrowed and Harry watched in horror as his hand shot out from the
flame and smacked Draco across the face. Draco turned his head with the blow,
his eyes closed in anticipation of it, leaving Harry to wonder how it was that
Draco Malfoy knew how to take a slap like that. "You wretched, little.... You
owe me everything. You owe me your life. Were it not for me...."
On his feet faster than Harry could cross to him, Draco glared down at Snape.
"What? What do I owe you?"
"Everything. I kept you alive. I kept you hidden," Snape seethed.
Harry was about to speak, but his voice was cut off with the transformation of
Draco in trousers to Draco in a short black dress puffed out with the many
layered ruffles of a petticoat, the purple feather duster hooked into the
ribbon of his apron. How he'd missed those long, pale legs in the crisscross of
the fishnets. He was ashamed of how quickly his body reacted to it, especially
since he'd sworn to himself that Draco would never have to suffer the
humiliation of being feminized like this again.
"This is what you kept hidden. This is how you kept me," Draco hissed. "This is
what you want. It was never about me, it was only ever about your sick need to
control, to dominate. It was... what everything's ever been about, wasn't it?
It was about my father... and now he's dead, so let it go."
"Oh Draco," Harry whispered. He didn't care that Snape was there, he didn't
even care at how hard Draco was slapping at him to let him go. He held him,
sliding his fingers through his hair to soothe him until Draco was nothing but
a shuddering weight against his shoulder. "I'm so sorry."
"Potter, this doesn't concern you."
His glasses had dropped off during the short battle to hold Draco, and Snape
was an angry, green blur, but he could make out the stereotypic arms folded
across his chest and the cold glare. It took all of his will not to hex Snape
into oblivion. Killing was wrong and it was hard, but he felt the wish to see
Snape's blood overpowering his morality. Which was why it took him a moment to
realize that the red beam of light that hit Snape square in the chest hadn't
come from him in a fit of spontaneous magic.
The clatter of Draco's wand to the floor drew his attention from self-doubt and
he stared into those bloodshot eyes as he wiped away his tears. At first,
Draco's expression was afraid, then hard with anger, finally it melted into
something more impish, something that demanded revenge. He pressed the feather
duster into Harry's hand and dragging him by his shoulders, sat Harry into a
chair by the fire.
Harry sat down in wonder as he watched Draco shimmying out of his pettipanties,
leaving him in the belt and stockings with yards of frilly petticoat just above
where the reddish head of his prick poked out. Draco straddled him, undoing his
trousers as he kissed him fiercely, as much for show as need.
He had just enough time and thought to summon the tube of lubricant as Draco
situated himself on Harry's lap, arse bare but framed by white starchy fabric.
"With the duster," Draco whispered. One elegant hand was on the corner of the
stone fireplace, his face was bare inches from Snape's, but Snape couldn't move
an inch. He stood there in the shocked stoicism of someone who had been
stupefied. "Is this what you wanted, you sick fuck?"
It took Harry a moment to snap out of it and react. Draco put one heeled shoe
on the floor, the other hooked under Harry's arm. He slid his hand over Draco's
pale arse, shoving the fabric over his back. His cock stuck up between Draco's
thighs, rigid and proud and wanting nothing more than to repeat what they'd
done a few nights before. He was sure Draco would let him, that it was part of
the plan, but first things first, the feature presentation; the feather duster.
He greased it up, slathering the black handle with the white cream. He held it
up for Snape's unblinking eyes and then teased it between Draco's cheeks. Draco
spread his legs further, making quite a show of moaning and rubbing against the
flat, cool plastic. Harry sat back against the cushions, both for a better view
and to rut his cock against Draco's thigh. Using his free hand, he grabbed
Draco's arse cheek and held the feather duster up, the purple feathers in front
of his face and slowly pushed it through the ring of muscles.
Draco gasped and his head fell forward as Harry twisted the handle, working it
into him, skin stretching and sucking around the thin black unyielding
material. He pulled it back out in slow wonder, watching how the skin turned
itself inside out to hold onto the handle for just a fraction of a second more.
Before pulling it all the way out, Harry pushed it in again grabbing it firmly
with his fist as he angled the feathers up so that he could hit Draco's
prostate.
Stirring it around till Draco was whining in pain or pleasure, he felt Draco's
body tighten when he stroked an off-angle area. Experimentally, he nudged it
again and Draco gave a sincere yowl of pleasure. Harry pumped the fisted duster
right there, working it speedily up and down; the feathers jittering with the
movement. Draco fucked against it, one hand looping under him to pull himself
off. His hand still rested on the stone, but his head lolled down and his
maid's hat fluttered to the floor as he lost himself to being fucked.
Harry was almost jealous of the feather duster, and of how much Draco seemed to
love being fucked at all. It had been good when he'd bottomed, but he never
abandoned everything in quite the way that Draco did. His body tingled with
sweat and his muscles spasmed with the hard working of his hips. His arse
cheeks clenched and Harry heard the hard gush of breath that came with Draco's
release.
Throwing the feather duster into the fire at Snape, Harry pushed Draco onto all
fours on the floor. His hands slipped on the come and he left his face pressed
against the floor as Harry mounted him. Harry kicked the chair back so Snape
could see this, see him pushing his prick into Draco, violating him, defiling
him, taking him right in front of him.
He was beyond aroused, he was vengeful. He tried to keep mindful of Draco, but
he needed this too much now. The bashfulness of being naked in front of Snape
had long since passed, he proudly pushed Draco's arse open and pressed into
him. Bodies connecting, sliding together, a piece that fits so wholly, so
completely that Harry could hardly fathom the hell that was being outside of
Draco's warmth. He threw his head back in ecstasy, his hands curling around
Draco's hips as he pushed in and out of him. The metal from Draco's belt poked
his thighs and the crinoline itched against his belly, but Draco was heaven.
Harry opened his eyes and glared at Snape as he cried out, "Fuck yes, Draco...
fuck."
He fell forward onto Draco knocking them both to the floor in front of the
fire. The movement unsettling enough that it broke Draco's magic and Snape
vanished from the fire and they were left with nothing but the smoldering
embers.
At first Harry wasn't sure what he was hearing, muffled as it was with his ear
pressed between Draco's shoulder blades. But the bark-like cadence and jiggling
beneath him brought him to. Draco was giggling, and Harry joined in between
kisses over the back of his neck.
--
As expected, Snape hadn't been entirely truthful about Narcissa's wishes
regarding Draco. She'd wanted a couple of days to sort herself out before she
saw him, and when she'd had them, she sent for him.
Draco delayed a day, perhaps in protest, but Harry preferred to think that he'd
just wanted to spend more time with him. They snuggled and Draco made promises
that Harry would never hold him to.
The next morning, Draco packed a bag and kissed Harry goodbye.
That was a month ago.
Hermione kept Harry and Ron busy with a breakneck schedule of revisions for
NEWTS. She, as well as Remus, was convinced that with enough concentrated
revising, they could pass the exams even without a full year of Hogwarts
education. Harry had his doubts, but the hard work was keeping him from
agonizing over the lack of owls from Draco.
He wouldn't think about it. Even if Draco were coming back, owling him could be
dangerous depending on where he was. Every morning he would scan the Daily
Prophet just to make sure that there were no announcements of a Malfoy
slaughter. Only one Malfoy was dead, and while Harry was sympathetic to Draco
because it was his father, he deserved to be murdered in prison. However, it
further exposed how unsafe the Wizarding world still was in spite of the defeat
of Voldemort.
Pushing that from his mind, Harry looked down at the graded Potions work Remus
had just handed him. The sloping scrawl was familiar, and not because it was
Remus's. He squinted at the page, willing it not to be Snape's. The very idea
of Snape helping repulsed him. He glowered at Remus branding him a traitor.
"I realize that it's hard for you to take, but Severus is trying to make
amends. To everyone," said Remus, patting Harry's shoulder.
"For murder or for trying to molest a student or just for being a stinking
greasy git all of his life?" Harry didn't even look at the corrections,
crumpling the parchment and throwing it to the bin instead.
Remus sighed and nodded and sat down next to him. "Harry..." he started, and
then he looked at the fire. Harry blushed in remembrance of his revenge on
Snape there. What if that's where Draco was? He couldn't imagine Snape being
quite so magnanimous. Then again, if Draco was with him, then he would've
certainly rubbed his face in it by now. What a bitter thing to take heart in.
"I don't expect you to understand. I'm not sure I would've understood before I
was forced to run with Greyback in the line of duty. Being with those people...
being amongst all of that evil and wrongness can twist a person, twist a mind
even." Remus stared at his arthritic hands, stained with correction ink from
his near-constant tutoring.
"Twist them into murdering his mentor?" Harry didn't wish to undercut Remus's
point or his suffering, but whatever Remus might've done in the light of the
moon wasn't murder. Or so he didn't think it was, but then, he didn't know.
"Not even you thought he was on our side when he did that."
Shaking his head, Remus said, "He did what he had to do in the line of duty.
It's... it's what broke him, Harry. He knew that sparing Draco was what
Dumbledore wanted, but it didn't make the fact of what he had to do any easier.
Nor did the fact that it took us a while to understand why he did what he did."
Hearing the guilt in Remus's voice made Harry ache with regret; not for his
thoughts on Snape, but for expressing them to Remus. Snape could fuck right on
off; there was no excuse for his behaviour, no matter how broken Remus thought
he was. "Then he should have talked to some one, not tried to goad Draco to..."
Harry couldn't even finish his thought, he trailed off and gestured, closing
his eyes and wishing that he had Draco there to hold and reassure.
This time it was Harry who needed the reassuring.
Remus paled and turned his attention back to his notes. After a moment he
responded, "I'm certain that he regrets the damage he's done to his
relationship with Malfoy. He thought of him as a son..."
"That makes it worse."
"He became confused. There was a lot... I'm sure you don't know about with
Lucius Malfoy and Severus. He lost track of... he needed..."
Harry stood his eyes fiery with agitation. "I don't want to hear any more
excuses for what he did. It was wrong and evil and he... really hurt Draco. And
let's not even start with how he treated me through school. He knew who I was,
he knew how I'd grown up, but he couldn't let his rivalry with my father go
enough to give me a chance."
"As I recall, you egged it on a bit," Remus said weakly, withdrawing from
Harry's anger.
"I was eleven." Harry tried to master his anger; there was no point in shouting
at Remus, even if it was curious as to why he was suddenly Snape's great
defender. "Why are you defending him?"
"Because he's trying." Remus stood and pushed his chair under the table. "I
thought you were the sort of man who respected people trying to better
themselves."
Scoffing, Harry turned to the door, unable to meet Remus's intense stare.
"Maybe I'm just trying to figure out what his angle is before he hurts someone
I care about again."
Hearing Remus making his way across the kitchen, Harry took off up the stairs
and slammed the door to his room. The room he'd once shared with Draco. He
picked up the green silk dressing gown, the only thing Draco had left behind.
He could barely smell the taint of the citrus of his soap anymore.
This was ridiculous, clinging to a left behind piece of clothing from a boy who
probably couldn't care less how much he worried about him. In fact, he wagered
that part of the reason he was so quiet and Snape was so interested in
reconciliation was because Draco was with him. He was tempted to set the fabric
on fire, but instead he threw it across the room and headed to the small
writing desk in the corner.
Dear Draco Malfoy,
You left your dressing gown here. I'm sure Snape doesn't think you need it; he
probably has other ways of keeping you warm.
I just want you to know that I don't care.
I hope you're happy.
Harry Potter
Hedwig squawked at him as he roughly attached the scroll to her leg. She nipped
at his hand and gave him a fierce glare. At the time he thought it was because
she was annoyed, but ten minutes after he'd practically threw her out of the
window, he wondered if she was trying to stall him from sending such a hostile,
stupid letter.
His stomach tightened as he realized how foolish and hysterical it sounded. He
sat in the window seat in the drawing room, staring out at the darkening sky,
willing Hedwig to have just circled 'round till he came to his senses. When she
came back without his missive attached, his heart sank.
There was no response from Draco either. That was somehow worse. Harry closed
his eyes and banged his temple against the window frame. Maybe Draco would send
Bran with a note later. Or maybe he just didn't care at all and he'd never hear
from him again. Bringing his knees to his chest, Harry buried his face against
his knees and allowed himself to cry.
--
Harry woke up sore, his face still pressed to the cold window. His neck and
back ached, but what really hurt was that there was still no response from
Draco. He rubbed the back of his neck and scanned his lap for his glasses.
"You really are an idiot."
Starting at Draco's drawl, Harry rubbed his eyes and squinted at the blond blob
on the divan. He scrambled for his glasses and shoved them on his face as he
stood, or tried to. His leg was asleep and gave out under him, leaving him
sprawled out on the floor. "Am not."
Draco rolled his eyes and stood, regal in black robes; his hair slicked back,
not a hair out of place. He offered Harry his hand and helped him up. "Whatever
you say."
First Harry wanted to kiss him, and then he wanted to slap him and ask him why
he'd not even sent so much as an owl. This was it, though. The grand kiss off.
Draco was even dressed like Snape, the perfect protégé. Harry wanted nothing
more than to cry at that prospect. He kept a hold of Draco's hand. Draco
couldn't tell him off if he was holding his hand. "How did you get here?"
"Magic."
Clearing his throat, Harry ignored the snark and decided to make his question
more precise. "Why are you here?"
"I don't know, I think I decided to stop by because someone who was barking mad
sent me a bizarre letter and signed your name to it." He perked a brow at Harry
and squeezed his hand.
"Barking mad, hm? Maybe this person only went barking because he wasn't sure
what else to think." Draco hadn't pulled away, he was staying close. Harry took
heart in the position, reasoning that Draco didn't have it in him to try and
let someone down gently.
Looking past Harry out the window behind him, Draco said, "That person doesn't
know... how hard it is to break the news of... to tell a grieving woman that
her son likes boys. One boy in particular. The one that put her husband in
Azkaban."
Harry slipped his arms around Draco and held him close. "You should have owled.
I would've understood."
"I couldn't." Draco burrowed his face against Harry's neck.
All of the tension from the anxiety of losing Draco left his body and he
supported him. "She wouldn't let you send out owls?"
Draco exhaled in a half laugh. "She wasn't monitoring that, no." He sighed and
held Harry tighter, "I just knew you'd be disappointed. You've told everyone
and I...."
"So she still doesn't know?" Harry was a bit disappointed in Draco, but he
understood how hard it would be to break that news to his mum.
"She knows now. I told her after I read your nutty note."
Frozen, Harry tried to brace for the worst. "And?"
"She laughed."
Harry unwrapped himself from Draco to look him in the eye. "Laughed? She
thought you were kidding?"
Draco looked more annoyed than upset and stared at the ceiling. "No, she knew I
was serious. She just thought it was funny that I waited that long to tell her.
She thought we must've broken up since I didn't talk about you at all."
"She knew?" Harry gaped at him, blinking slowly.
"Molly Weasley told her, the old busybody." He folded his arms and looked
indignant.
"What? When?"
"When they were all at St. Mungo's after Granger's accident."
Grabbing Draco by the waist, Harry pulled him close again, beaming. "So you can
visit?"
"Mum says after NEWTS I can do whatever I wish. She hired some tutors for me
and I've been revising like mad. I'm not sure I see the point in it. The only
good NEWTS do for you is if you plan on taking a day job, which I do not." The
haughtiness was back and Harry was pleased to see it. He kissed Draco's
upturned nose and then his lips, teasing their bottom lips together before
consuming him with something deeper.
After a few breathless kisses in which Draco's hair became quite mussed and his
face flushed, Harry paused to whisper, "I want you to live here. Stay with me
after the NEWTS."
"Live with you? Isn't that a little... much?" Draco pushed his hair back and
tried to regain his composure, but his grin made his attempts at refusal
transparent.
"Oh Draco, you've been living here for months. There's nothing sudden about
it!" Harry groped Draco's arse, making him jump and give Harry an exasperated
look.
Then Draco peered over his shoulder to the corner of the divan where a fine
black trunk with silver swirling dragons frolicked. "I don't know, this is so
sudden."
"You prat!" Harry squeezed his arse again and laughed. "You knew I was going to
let you stay?"
"I was hoping. Mum spent the morning informing me of all of my relatives that
were that way and giving me lectures on being safe and.... Anyway, it's just a
few things for the night. After NEWTS... if you're not unbearably annoying... I
might stay." Draco blushed slightly and then squeezed Harry's arse.
"I'll try not to be annoying," he said, yelping the last word in surprise at
Draco's squeeze. "But we know you'll stay because you love me, don't you?"
Draco rolled his eyes. "Not this again."
"You love me. Admit it."
Draco exhaled and shook his head.
"So much love for me and my friends. But mostly me. You want to be my
boyfriend, you want to live in my house with me." Harry beamed at Draco. He
released his arse and started to tickle him.
Dropping to the floor at the first sign of being tickled, Draco giggled madly,
flailing and kicking to get away from Harry. "Stop it, you maniac. You're
barking. Barking mad!"
"You love me!" he giggled, blowing raspberries on Draco's neck. "Admit it and
I'll stop."
"That's blackmail. Gryffindors don't blackmail!" Draco protested between
embarrassed titters. He grabbed Harry's wrists and forced them away from his
sides. "I might love you, if you weren't completely mental."
Harry pressed his hips against Draco's, sliding them together in that all-too
familiar way. Beneath him, Draco whimpered and parted his legs. It had been far
too long.
Wresting his hand from Draco's grip, he slid his hand over the front of his
robe, feeling his growing length. "Tell me you love me and I'll touch you."
"You already are." Draco raised his arse as Harry pushed his robe up, pulling
it over his thighs and finally over his head. They were on the floor of the
drawing room, anyone could walk in or just walk by. The door wasn't even shut.
Harry left a trail of soft kisses over Draco's chest, nuzzling the soft skin
he'd spent a month dreaming about. He just wanted to feel him now, the warmth,
the feel of his muscles contracting under the soft skin, the twitch of his cock
in his hand as he traced his tongue around Draco's areola.
Draco's smell, his soft cooing, the way that he surrendered completely to his
touches-- Harry missed everything about Draco. Burying his face between his
legs, he mouthed the shaft, his hands kept his thighs apart and flat. He
kneaded the tense muscles as his thumbs crept to his opening.
He drew the soft pad of his thumb over the wrinkled, warm flesh, feeling the
soft hairs and waxy skin. Harry wanted to be inside of him, to be connected to
Draco. He wrestled with his pyjama pants till he fished out his wand and
summoned the tube of lubricant. Draco must have been just as eager for this, as
he didn't complain even when Harry's second finger slipped into him. His brow
furrowed and his face reddened, but as Harry explored and found that spot
again, Draco was lost in it again.
Stretching over him, Harry introduced a third finger and kissed over Draco's
flushed face. "Say it, Draco. You're so beautiful; just tell me... that you
love me."
Draco exhaled in his face, but otherwise said nothing. His eyes opened and he
gazed into Harry's eyes, so filled with lust and adoration that Harry felt
rather silly asking for words. Draco had faced his mum for him. He'd shown up
at the house when he knew Harry was in a panic. He'd found a way for Harry to
live. Draco spoke in gestures, not words. He licked his lips, ready to say
whatever Harry wanted. Harry cut him off with a kiss, withdrawing his fingers
to slide into him.
He didn't need words. He had Draco, and Draco was here, surrounding him, giving
himself to him, their bodies coming together unhurried. Harry grasped Draco's
cock, pulling in time with his thrusts as he sloppily kissed Draco. He felt a
release building after Draco sputtered warmly on his hand and belly. Opening
his eyes as he gave the last of his articulated thrusts that preceded his
orgasm, Harry whispered, "We'll be together; whatever may come."
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