WINTER EYES, WINTER HEART
Chapter One
A/N: Ok, this is the sequel to Games, so if you haven't read that then do because otherwise you may not understand parts of this. It isn't very long, but please give me reviews for that as well because I don't have very many!
*****
The Boy Who Lived was tired. He was so tired that he could not find the words to describe it, the utter weariness that gnawed at his body, threatening to pull him into unconsciousness if he so much as moved, the depression, the sniping that inevitably deteriorated into yelling, the yelling that invariably deteriorated into tears.
The reason for his exhaustion was simply sleep deprivation. But it was on a scale much more extreme than in most: Harry had not slept at all for the best part of a month. And already it was breakfast time.
The reason for his sleep deprivation was the Order of the Phoenix. Curse the Order. Of course, Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, he can go without any sleep at all, he's a wizard, a good wizard, yes, and he's our bait, if you will, our little temptation for You-Know-Who, our little worm on the hook. You have to admit, though, he doesn't look very impressive, in fact he almost looks evil, with those massive circles around his eyes, you'd think he needs the sleep, silly boy …
Harry swore bitterly at the Order as he yanked on his robes, half an hour after he had got to bed. Stupid fucking … he sighed. He could not swear at them … they didn't know how tired he was. And they certainly weren't stupid – Dumbledore was one of the cleverest people he knew. But then, Dumbledore doesn't know what you do on your nights off.
Harry entered the Great Hall in trepidation, aware that he was a few minutes late and dreading the possibility of everyone turning, watching him. Thankfully, however, the prospect of pains au chocolat for breakfast had drawn everyone's mouths firmly down to the table, and nobody even glanced up as Harry passed them.
He sat down between Ron and Hermione, his usual place, and they smiled at him warmly. They don't know, either. They think I slept the night before last. His eyes suddenly flicked to the Slytherin table. Ah, Draco …
Draco returned his gaze briefly, eyes softening for an almost imperceptibly short moment, flaring, wanting, yearning, then hardening again and looking away. Harry's heart sprang, flipped, throbbed until he told it firmly to still, when it lay, pulsating in his chest. Draco …
Harry … he could see the word in Draco's eyes as he held that expression steady and calm in his mind. I want you … now …
Harry jerked his head away and tried to construct some semblance of a conversation with Ron and Hermione. Neither seemed particularly interested, however – Hermione had received an owl yesterday informing her that Viktor Krum had been killed in a Quidditch match. Ron was mourning with her, trying to convince himself that he had spoken to Viktor personally, yes, he would say that he had bonded with him, that it was a great loss and he would miss Viktor.
Not great material for distracting Harry from Draco.
Eventually Harry gave over to staring into space, lifting sawn pieces of springy egg to his lips, caressing it, trying desperately to believe that it was Draco's mouth, that the two were embracing … Draco …
'Are you all right, Harry?' Seamus Finnigan peered into Harry's face curiously. 'You've been thinkin' about eating that there piece of egg for like half a minute.'
'Oh … erm … no, I'm fine, Seamus … I'm just thinking about … Quidditch … Krum and everything … and our next match.'
'Mmm.' The half-hearted, I don't really understand you but I'll pretend I do because you're Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, and there's no way I'm acting stupid in front of you look.
Harry gave up. Nobody treated him normally any more, it was as if there was a glass case around him, crystal, unbreakable, holy almost, and in that case stood the most amazing wizard in the world. Sure, he was only seventeen, but what was age to someone like him? Emotional maturity … bullshit.
Seventeen. Enough to massacre, enough to snatch away lives like a little sweet, they thought it was fun for him, a fun gun, a plaything, that the blackness of death was a wall he stood against, kicked, taunted and tormented, sent people over and across and through and around and pulled them back again, Crucio, torturing, bittersweet lust for power raging, needing to kill, Avada Kedav – ah, almost had you fooled …
Bullshit.
Draco …
A crash, a sudden grate of harsh wood and metal, slam, bang, cool and crisp and snappy, and Harry knew it was Lucius Malfoy standing in the Hall, glaring at Dumbledore, but following his gaze it was not Dumbledore he looked at, but Severus Snape, and Severus Snape looked …
Scared.
Harry had become acquainted enough with Snape through the Phoenix to understand his faults and become able to respect him. And he knew that when Severus Snape was scared, something was very, very wrong.
Lucius Malfoy began his ascent to the front of the Hall, legs sliding through the air, hundreds of pairs of eyes drawn, moving in perfect time, swaying legs, steps echoing on the unforgiving floor which remembered him, grey eyes … winter.
Snape was cowering almost by now, Harry's eyes the only ones noticing as the Potions Master's eyes flickered wildly, looking for escape, trying to hide in this vast room where were assembled thousands of students trained to be alert, to be able to predict what their opponent was going to do next. But now they seemed blind, only drawn by this man who walked like an angel and whose body swayed like the Slytherin serpent.
Harry's breath hissed out, his eyes straining to look at Lucius, wanting to believe this was a snake, to converse with it as if it did not have proper revengeful carnal lusts, as an animal. At first Harry did not allow himself, kept his eyes on Snape. But he knew that this man was a Death Eater, he must be on his guard, and so soon he too turned to watch Lucius.
When Lucius reached Dumbledore and leaned down to speak with him, Harry allowed his eyes to return to Snape's place. He was gone. Somehow, in the space of twenty seconds, the Potions Master had disappeared silently into the misty air of the castle.
'Malfoys,' he murmured, thinking hard. He had never seen Lucius Malfoy and Snape together in the same room, had never seen them meet or talk. But they evidently knew each other, and evidently things were not right between them. Not at all right.
And with the final battle coming up, any strange relationships between members of the Order and Death Eaters could not be good.
*****
After gulping down his lunch and running, stressed and harassed, a worried angel, Harry went to his usual lunchtime Order meeting. The main topic of conversation was, of course, the arrival of the Death Eater at the castle. But the main decision was, of course, by natural default and order, left to Harry.
'It's up to you, Harry, tell him to leave if you want.'
'He's a spy, Harry, he should be forced out.'
'Harry, it may not be good to sour relations with Voldemort now, let him stay …'
'He's trying to sneak around the castle, finding out our best defence spots, get him out!'
Harry stood up, shoved his chair backwards and slammed his hand down in thunderous annoyance, God in the fury of the Flood, and they knew it, awed scared looks in their eyes. 'They know the castle anyway. Lucius went to school here. So did most of the other Death Eaters. Let him stay; if he does anything stupid … and I mean anything, he'll leave. You have my word.'
And the meeting was still again. Ah, Harry, once more you've calmed the Order with your words of balm, smooth, clever and thought out, Harry, you truly are your father's son, Harry, so intelligent, such a good leader, Harry Potter, we will worship you …
Abruptly Harry walked out of the meeting. He kept walking, battled the flow of the students on their way to lessons, dodged Ron and Hermione as they tried to persuade him to go to Potions with them, and as much as Harry knew he should be there, that he should calculate Snape's countenance and watch him closely … it was not impossible that he was betraying them, although Harry doubted it, as much as he knew he should attend his lessons, he did not.
Soon the corridors emptied, the lessons quieted, and the paintings started up their chatter, a sure sign that there was no one about, for the paintings clung to the wall, and walls have ears, as sure as the sun rises in the east, walls at Hogwarts had ears.
Harry found a secluded corner, a dead end in the maze that was his school, and sunk gratefully down to the floor, slinging his bag away from him in disgust. The bastards. Worship. Bullshit.
As he sat in anger, he heard quick footsteps, rhythmic, a Slytherin dance, Lucius Malfoy, bullfight, paso doble, strong face and contained anger. Without another thought Harry stood. It was time to remind Lucius that he was here on Harry's will, on God's will, Harry the God, angel of mercy, God …
'Lucius.'
The Serpent slowed, smiled his smarmy smile. A true Slytherin, to the core. Winter eyes, winter heart. Yeux d'hiver, coeur d'hiver. 'Harry Potter. Still here?'
'Still here.'
'Aren't you supposed to be in lessons, Harry?'
Harry shrugged. Lucius may be able to get one over on him here, but nowhere else. They were on his turf. 'Probably.'
'Which lesson, Harry?' It was a Do or Die command, and Harry would not have tolerated it if it weren't for the fact that he had Potions, Potions with Professor Snape, Severus Snape, Snape and Lucius …
'Potions.'
Triumph, certainly. It made sense: Snape was scared of Lucius; there was a conquest here. Greed. Lucius wanted to defeat Snape again. Anger. Probably some wrong Lucius believed Snape had done him.
But softness? No … Harry would not have thought it, until he saw Lucius' eyelids crease as he thought of Snape. A suspicion began to grow.
'I will accompany you back to your lesson, Potter.'
'No, Lucius, it's all right …'
'I cannot abide the possibility of you getting … lost … on your way. Come with me.' And he strode off, powerful limbs now thirsty for prey, fists clenching, and suddenly Harry wanted to hurry, to protect Snape, for it was certain that Lucius had no good intentions … winter.
Draco … Draco would be in Potions. And Harry walked faster. Lucius … Draco's father … still, Harry had no reason to like him, Draco himself hated his father. The other night, as they lay together, Draco had sworn to Harry that in the final battle, he would kill Lucius. The steadfastness and cold determination had chilled Harry, and he shuddered slightly as he remembered the look on Draco's face. 'I will kill my father, Harry.'
'Lucius.' He waited until he was sure the man was listening, then continued. 'You are only being allowed to remain here on the provision that you behave. You will not stay if I feel you are not inspiring confidence. Is that understood?'
Harry glimpsed a slightly surprised look on Lucius' pale face at this outburst, and suddenly he saw why they fear him, fear him for his ability to seem like a child and then suddenly to talk as an experienced Battle Mage …
'Yes, Mr Potter, I understand.' And Lucius walked on.
Harry decided that he should go into the classroom first, so that he could be present when Lucius and Severus first locked eyes, first exchanged words. So when they reached the door he pushed ahead, hand under his robes, grasping his wand, threatening, communicating.
Snape looked utterly delighted that Harry was late. 'Mr Potter,' he sneered. 'How nice of you to …' He froze, and the sardonic expression on his face slowly shifted into one of absolute horror as he caught sight of Lucius. 'Malfoy,' he snarled.
'Hello again, Severus,' Lucius replied pleasant, but Harry stiffened at the falseness of the voice, the threatening undertone, I'm here to kill you, Severus, in front of the students or not, if only Harry here will get out of the way …
Harry kept himself between the two men, adamant that they should not get anywhere near each other. Glancing at Draco, he saw Severus' fury reflected in his lover's face … I will kill my father, and what a perfect opportunity, while Daddy is here, in the home of the Order, and his son is protected.
'Sit down, Harry … Severus and I need to have a little chat.'
'I don't think you should be ordering my students about, Lucius,' Snape said in a deathly quiet voice, one that would have sounded nasty had it been directed at anyone else, but here it was feeble, and the students knew it; they glanced at him, puzzled.
'I agree, Lucius,' Harry added, bringing their earlier conversation into play. 'You really wouldn't want to get off to a bad start here, would you?'
Snape looked slightly relieved at Harry's defending him, stronger, help me, and then said: 'Go away, Malfoy.'
Lucius hesitated, a look of pure loathing on his face, then decided he was outnumbered, spun and walked away.
Snape looked immensely grateful, his voice hoarse now, 'Sit down, Harry.'
This was the first time he had called Harry by his first name in public, and Harry warmed to it, smiled reassuringly, trusted Snape like he had never trusted him completely before. Snape hated a Death Eater, he hated everything they stood for, Avada Kedav – ah, what's the point, I hate it, it's all bullshit.
At the end of the lesson, Snape approached Harry, face angry, but Harry knew this was just an act, that this was important. Much as he wanted to follow Draco. 'Harry, I need you to do a detention tonight. Don't ask me why, please, just come to the classroom after dinner.'
'Lucius,' Harry murmured. It was not really supposed to be a guess for the reason of this detention, but somehow it came out a lot like that.
Snape nodded, and then swallowed. 'Straight after supper, Potter. Don't be late … please.'
Another reassuring smile … but intrigue inside, for Severus had never sounded so frightened, so in need of comfort and love … love. Lucius had looked as if he loved him. Was the feeling requited? Was that why Severus looked scared; did he know that a relationship with a Death Eater could never be pursued? Or was it something stranger, something dark and deep and unapproachable? Was it, by chance, anything to do with … the Game?
Draco had played the Game, last year … he never spoke of it now, but Harry knew roughly what it was, and he had heard something of its history. Who had Draco played with? Blaise Zabini, that was it, that dark-haired Slytherin, mysterious eyes … very like Snape might once have been, in fact.
Harry began to look forward with time-chewing curiosity to his detention.
*****
At supper, Harry bolted down his food, ignoring surprised questions from Ron and Hermione … they didn't need to know, they probably wouldn't want to know … and left the Great Hall a few minutes after he saw Snape go. Lucius was not dining in the Hall that evening, claiming fatigue, and Harry could see the frustration and fear in Snape at not knowing where the man was … he could jump out at any moment, force me into anything, he has all the Dark powers at his disposal … Harry could almost hear Snape's thoughts.
He almost ran to the dungeons, stomach tightening as the possibilities of what Lucius might do raced through his mind. He could rob, he could summon his flock … he could kill. Harry had lost friends before … Dean Thomas had been killed in a raid from the Death Eaters a couple of years back … not that he thought of Snape as a friend. Hell, he still thought of him as Snape … but still, he wouldn't like to lose him to Lucius, especially when there was sufficient proof that it would be his fault. He had let Lucius stay, after all … perhaps it was a mistake? Snape, please be alive, please be all right …
Snape was in his classroom, sitting at his desk, marking work. A poor reward for Harry, to see the man simply staring at papers, pen in hand … no, not pen in hand. He was simply staring, not doing work at all. Harry cleared his throat, and Snape flinched, jerked his head upwards, eyes wild. Then he relaxed. 'Harry.'
'What the fuck did he do to you?' Harry demanded, unable to keep his curiosity under control and anger growing at Lucius for doing this to the man whom he believed to be one of the bravest in the school.
Snape closed his eyes for a second, and then reopened them, the cold mask in place, desperately trying to fool Harry that the past was forgotten … but Harry could make out one word, riding clearly on the surf of that mask … bullshit.
'I think, in consideration of the relationship between you and Mr Malfoy, that you would do better not to know.'
How very ambiguous. Which Malfoy did he mean? Draco … did he know? Or was he simply referring to Harry's hatred of Lucius? 'Professor, do you mean Lucius or … his son?'
'Draco.'
It was Harry's turn to close his eyes. 'You know.'
'Yes, I know, Harry, it's difficult not to see, taking into account my … intimate knowledge of Malfoys. Anyway, I have some questions for you to do, we might as well pretend that you are on detention.' He handed Harry a sheet of paper, and motioned him to the desk nearest his own.
Damn. He wasn't going to spill. How frustrating. But he knew better than to test Snape's patience; he bent his head and began on the questions. Snape took a pen and began to actually mark, apparently satisfied with his security.
Suddenly there was a noise at the door. Both teacher and pupil stood up quickly, but this time there was no relaxing. For standing in the entrance to the classroom was the very person both Harry and Snape least wanted to see, the Slytherin figure that Snape feared so much.
Lucius Malfoy.
*****
A/N: Ok, what do you think? Cliffhanger? Sorry if it is, but I do my best. Please review!