Death is Never Clearly Defined
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Chapter 1: Hectic
Summary: Main Story after 'Sacrifice Myself For You'. After Harry died, Draco set off to find his missing father, but what he finds first, might save him from his own intentions. Setting: 2 years after 6th book. Main pair: HP'DM. some: RW'HG. possible: RL'SB.
Disclaimer: … I own the handcuffs and the whip… that's all… #tear#
Warnings: Slash; no like, no read… and if you don't care for my choice of subjects to write about, then 'eff you sir, 'eff you in the bunghole… (credited to Robbie & Brynn). Gore, bad language and characters being IN character (for the most part, yet as they will, characters will change depending on events that happen) will appear in abundance throughout this whole story, so again, if you don't approve, then I will gladly offer my ass to thee for thou to KISS! (if you need a translation then I feel sorry for you…) Also, if you haven't read up to the 6th book, there ARE spoilers, too. Nice flames are allowed but anything mean, demeaning, or condescending will be ignored.
A/N: These chapters will be long but will take a while to get posted… partially my fault cuz I am currently suffering from writer's block… partially cuz I am back in school… and mostly cuz I am dense #sigh# Any suggestions will be welcomed with open arms… well… mostly… and if you think I should change the title AND have a suggestion, then I will consider it… umm… I think that's it… XD
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Sorry, but this is my first slashie… please tell me, peoples, if I get OOC without having a good reason for the part… I will try to fix it (if you tell me about it first)… And if I get the phrases wrong, sorry… I am an American… don't blame me, blame my parents #grin#…
Jeez… I talk too much before chapters… #sigh# ON WITH THE CHAPTER! Teehee
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#blah, blah, blah# speech in Parseltongue
#blah# random noise
"Blah" spell or accented word
'blah' thoughts
"blah" speech
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>>Tuesday, November 1>>
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Harry blinked a few times, feeling like a brick was pounding on his head and that he had lost a fight with Ripper, his Aunt Marge's dog; both of which he had experienced many times before. He groaned and winced when it came out of his dry throat as a raspy hiss. His neck, back, and stomach all stung like Voldemort himself was trying to rip a hole through him and then sew him back together again. Harry tried to sit up, but it was far from his current abilities, so he just lay there in the cool morning air. A sticky, damp feeling was quickly spreading beneath his clothes, so Harry figured he was hurt and bleeding pretty badly; not that he could do anything about it at the moment. Luckily, almost half his body was pretty much numb from the coldness and probably shock, but the stinging wind wasn't helping much.
Harry shifted his head slightly so he could see where he was, dreading seeing a black cloaked form, or hearing the swish of a long cloak or robe.
He had appeared on a deserted street. The houses looked very well kept… but the nearest of them was at least 150 yards in either direction. He was in front of a house that was pretty much destroyed fairly recently. It looked like it had been destroyed by fire, but most of it was repaired, or being worked on. The strange thing was, Harry felt like he had been there before, but it was hard to think with all the pounding in his head.
A heavy fog, appearing with a sudden lower temperature, suddenly obscured his vision, but he already knew there was a person walking towards him, hurrying along at a reckless pace in spite or perhaps because of the thick fog. Harry heard a soft thump and then a wooden clunk, a soft thump and then a wooden clunk. The man, Harry figured it was from the broad-shouldered profile, was walking towards Harry, limping steadily as he made a bee line towards where Harry lay.
#Thump#
Harry tried to move his hands to see if he could manage to touch the familiar wooden handle of his wand, but it was nowhere he could tell.
#Clunk#
Panic threatened to take control of him, not that it would do much good to him to have an adrenaline rush because he was defenseless anyways.
#Thump#
He swallowed the moisture building up in his mouth.
'Have I come this far just to be killed by some random guy… just after having killed the Dark Lord Himself?'
The footsteps stopped. Harry peered up, but the man's face was shadowed by the bright street lamps behind his head. Harry, for a split, heart-stopping moment, thought he saw a chunk missing out of the man's nose, but his vision darkened as the man bent over to study him. Harry was unconscious by the time he heard the man voice his astonishment at Harry's beaten and bloody appearance.
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Draco sat in the infirmary for what seemed like only a fairly short time before he noticed the only person left in this world that cared for him sitting directly across from him.
Draco wanted to close his eyes and try to get rid of the morbid thought, but his blank, dead eyes always stared back at him, somehow accusingly, whenever he closed his eyes. It was worse than any nightmare he had ever suffered through. Not to mention it had been the last thing he had ever imagined would happen. He figured that he would die by his father's hand the whole time, not be saved by one of the men he hated more than anything. Draco hadn't been sure he wanted to live through the final battle. He had almost welcomed it, just to escape the plague of traitorous nightmares.
It was the first time he had ever disobeyed his father outright… he had hoped he might not have to live through the memories that always became his companions when he even thought of disobeying his father.
Draco felt a hand touch his shoulder, so he slowly, unconsciously without blinking, looked up into the sallow face and inky black eyes of his godfather, the only one left in this world he could trust. Snape pursed his lips, 'probably at the state of my appearance,' Draco thinks humorlessly.
He had been chewed out more than once by his godfather when he was making Slytherin look bad somehow. Despite what people thought, the ex-Potion's master didn't favor him as much as everyone thought. Yeah, they put up a good façade that he was indeterminately favored by the man, but it only went so far. He actually, Snape had once told him after one such reprimand, barely got better grades than Potter most the time. Now that was one of the times he really loved his godfather. He always made sure to refrain from tarnishing his appearance in front of others. Unfortunately that came with the price of it being a worse dressing down than it would have been in public.
"Draco… You have been sitting there, not blinking I might add, for the past 2 hours staring at me. You know very well that I would be the last to admit this, but it certainly gets unnerving after a while…"
Draco blinked once and heard Snape reply, "Good, now we'll work on the speak command." Draco looked down at the cream colored linen bed sheets and started picking at one of the threads that was starting to come loose. He heard a sigh.
"Draco… I don't really know why you are so upset… it isn't like you hadn't plotted his death a million times before…" That earned him a glare.
"Yes, but that would have been by my own hand, most likely in a proper duel… I would finally prove how inept he really was… Never in a million years did I think he would ever do something so damn reckless… the stupid git…" he added in a mutter. He stayed quiet for a few precious moments longer before he finally exploded.
"He didn't even bloody think that I would be the one to take the blame for his death. He just had to be the damn savior. No one dies on Saint fucking Potter's watch," Draco yelled in a shrill, mocking voice. Then he lowered it in sarcasm. "Except of course, himself…" He raised his voice again. "I hate that filthy-"
"That's enough, Draco… you know full well that you owe your life to Potter… it is an ill omen to mock the dead," Professor Snape interrupted. He looked like he would have wanted to hear what Draco had to say, but he was wincing, most likely from his own headache.
Both of them looked up at the a distant click, click, click of someone's heels on the hard polished stone of the infirmary so Severus quickly retreated back into the bed across from Draco's and easily slipped into the veneer that he had been there the whole time. Madame Pomfrey bustled into view just as he was fluffing the pillow beneath him to a comfortable position with his elbow on his good arm.
She gave him an accusing glare, but then grabbed a bottle of something green off of her desk and strode over to Draco's bed. She poured a heaping spoonful into a glass and then added a few drops of essence of giant ragweed, another unfamiliar, strangely tart-smelling herb, and a bit of lemon balm leaf-tea. She shoved a few small, pinnately divided bright green leaves into his hand. Draco stuck them in his mouth, already knowing what they were, and started chewing them. Almost immediately after the thin juices slid down his throat, his headache started to let up a bit and he started to feel a bit drowsy. With a bit of a groan, he spit out the leaves into an empty cup and then downed the foul-smelling tonic and then fell backwards onto his pillow, his eyes closed.
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Stephen Williamson, an Unspeakable for ten odd years, had seen many miraculous things in his lifetime. He had seen many miracles doing his job, but unfortunately, being what he was, he could never tell the world about them. The only thing in the Department of Mysteries that he knew next to nothing about was the Defunct Curtain. He was supposed to be the expert of experts for the various weapons that they had recovered from the first war with Voldemort, but not even he had cracked the story of the mysterious curtain. Every time he passed by it, he heard the voices from inside it, taunting him but not once revealing its secrets to the outside world. Only those who had passed through the curtain itself knew what it held.
His job in the mornings, as he came in at around five, or at the latest, half past, was to make the rounds, making sure nothing was missing or out of place. Some of the objects held within the rooms of the Department of Mysteries were deadly enough that Voldemort would want them back. Or at least not want them in the hands of the Ministry. Every time he thought about that night, already two years back, he shuddered. Being one of the ones to have chased Voldemort out of the building, he had seen the ugly bastard's face. The taunt, sallow skin still haunted him at night, making his old nightmares caused by his job seem like child's play compared to the horrific things seen while he was in the same dream.
Rounding the corner to enter the spinning room again, Stephen spun around in place as the rooms changed around him. He called out the name of the second to last room he had yet to check, and then watched as the door to the room swung open. A pale, trembling, thin hand reached out to him as soon as the door opened wide enough and he near screamed at the gaunt face of the 4-year fugitive (now ex-fugitive) standing before him. It took him a minute to remember that the man had fallen through the veil, and was supposed to be dead.
"Please, take me to Dumbledore." Black called out, his voice scratchy and hoarse.
"Wha-… I… Well… Dumbledore… he's… err…" he stumbled over how to tell the man. Black's eyes flashed dangerously.
"Damnit! I need to see him now!"
"Well, he… he's dead… about a year and a half past." Black's eyes widened, the whites showing all the way around his pupils.
"He… are you sure?" he questioned. Black trembled, either from exhaustion or shock, the stress showing in his eyes. He slumped onto the doorframe, gritting his teeth. "What about my godson. Is Harry alright? And Remus? How did Dumbledore die!" Black rolled questions off his tongue as they occurred to him. His voice wavered and his lips tightened. "Just how long was I stuck in there?" He finally stopped, either to catch his breath of because he had finally ran out of questions. It looked to Stephen, as though exhaustion was finally sinking in.
Before Stephen could answer, the man suddenly stumbled and his eyes rolled to the back of his head. Stephen just barely caught him as he slumped to the floor. He gently lowered Black to the floor and then muttered, "Mobilicorpus," and left the Department in a fast stride, Black's unconscious form bobbing along right behind.
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>>Wednesday, November 2>>
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Harsh voices stole Draco from his deep slumber. Not even the fading effects of the previous night's potion could completely shut them out, but unfortunately, as the sleep aide potion wore off, so did the pain killers. He winced as the voices grew louder, a sharp pounding threatening to split his head wide open. He tried to focus on what they were saying, but it was proving very difficult to accomplish, though he did catch little bits and pieces.
"How do we know… Dumbledore, you… killed him himself and then framed…" It was definitely enough to guess who the whole shouting match was about. He wasn't exactly sure who the first voice belonged to, but he knew who the next voice belonged to, for certain. Though, it was almost impossible to catch the first's answer.
"I realize… he wouldn't have stayed… father… just as…" There was a noticeable pause. Then the other person exploded again. He could have heard the rest of the conversation, had his head not suddenly erupted in a painful headache from his attempt to sit up, the full fury of what he would have had to have tried to sleep with had he not taken feverfew earlier.
"Merlin, who hit me with a bloody hatchet?" he muttered darkly. Severus must have heard the remark because he heard a low chuckle from somewhere across the room before he was mauled by a pair of long, skinny arms, a horrid pug face attached somewhere above.
Somehow, above the squeals of "Dracy," he heard Madam Pomfrey's shrill voice telling Pansy off for jumping onto her patient. The nurse's voice jolted Draco back to the present and he remembered exactly why he was here. Nausea threatened to overcome his lead-filled stomach. He felt arms try and finally succeed at prying Pansy's arms from around his neck and then he was able to breath again. He clutched at the blankets covering his legs and chest, trying to slow his racing heart 'less I have a sodding heart attack,' he thought grimly.
"Who in their right mind let her in here?" he spat, grinding his teeth in annoyance. He didn't realize just how close she still was to his bed, but her voice was, if possible, even shriller than previously, effectively drowning out the yelling that had originally woke him. He tried to sit up again but she was so close to him that she was half on the bed; and sitting up would mean that he would have to touch her again to push her out of the way.
"But you know I was just making sure you were okay, Dracy!" Draco pulled his pillow out from under himself and tried to smother her voice out but she got even louder when she thought he couldn't hear her.
"I mean, after all Draco, you did just almost get killed because of that incompetent prick (1), Pot-" Before she could finish her sentence, Draco threw off the pillow and backhanded her. She stumbled backwards and fell to the floor, the resounding thump still echoing through the informatory. Her shock was soon evenly matched by Draco's. 'Nice contact… wait… I clouted her for insulting him… why?'
No one in the room moved an inch. The silence was deafening as Draco stared down at her. Her bottom lip trembled, showing her misery to anyone in the room, but the wrath in her vengeful glare was apparent to Draco, the only one staring her directly in the eye. He met her gaze coolly, his jaw set firmly.
"You just wouldn't shut up…" He shrugged nonchalantly but his mind was still racing. 'What in the blue fuck is going on with me?'
Finally Madam Pomfrey ended the shocked silence by grabbing Pansy by the arm and manhandling her out of the infirmary. Draco's eyes followed her as she left the room and received a shock when two people suddenly caught his attention.
Dumbledore and a large man with a grey-streaked mane-like tangle of hair had apparently seen the exchange just as they entered the room, for they were standing just inside the doorway as the nurse and Pansy left. Draco realized just who the man was, he had only seen him once, and even then only from afar, but Scrimgeour wasn't exactly the kind of man that you'd forget.
"Good morning," Scrimgeour stated shortly in greeting. A cold chill washed down Draco's spine as he stared at the large man. The hairs stood up on his neck while he watched Scrimgeour study him. After looking him over, head to toe, the corners of his mouth turned up in what Draco guessed was supposed to be a disarming, friendly smile. All it did was make him more suspicious.
"So…" Draco drawled in his usual tone. He briefly saw Dumbledore's eyebrow rise, but he ignored it and focused on Scrimgeour. "What brings you to my bedside at," Draco glanced at the old grandfather clock near the door to Madam Pomfrey's office, "five in the morning?" He tried to mock his father's straight posture unconsciously, but realized what he was doing and slumped back into the bed, feeling slightly muffed. (2)
"My name is Rufus Scrimgeour, Minister of Magic, Order of Merlin First Class… and so on and so forth. I believe it is a tad early to be formal enough to rattle all of them off."
Scrimgeour smirked familiarly and then held out his hand to shake Draco's. He didn't move. After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, he lowered his hand and his smile broadened uncomfortably. "You are very insubordinate, young man."
'Does he even know who I am?' he thought wearily.
"It surprises me that your father didn't teach you how to address your superiors," he continued smoothly.
'I highly doubt he would make that remark if he knew about my father being who he is…'
"Too bad… I just wanted to come here to wish you a swift recovery. We wouldn't want the only living testimony to the death of Mr. Potter," Draco flinched almost, almost, unnoticeably, "to die as well, now, would we? Especially since you haven't had time to give any interviews yet." A small muscle twitched in the lower right-hand corner of his mouth as he smiled. It made sense now. They thought Draco had killed… him after he had defeated Voldemort so that Draco would come out clean and smiling; the hero… in his place.
"My father did teach me manners… he also tried to get me to be Voldemort's," Scrimegour, to Draco's amazement didn't twitch a muscle, "lapdog."
"Yes, well… there was that small… unfortunate incident at the school that-" Draco cut him off.
"Small?" he croaked, "SMALL? You consider that small? Then what the fuck did you think when you heard that H-… that he died to save yours and everyone else's asses when he went off alone to fight Voldemort and his dogs! That it was just a skirmish?" Draco's chest was heaving with ire and lack of sufficient air. He sucked in a deep breath before starting again.
"He didn't want anyone with him in the final battle because of bastards like you, telling him that he was the savior of the world and that it was his fault in the end that all those people died because he couldn't defeat Voldemort when he was still in sodding diapers! The stupid prat didn't want anyone else to get hurt for his sake!"
His rant, wherever it was coming from, hadn't seemed to phase Scrimegour much, except for a bit of shock (probably just because Draco was yelling at him), but everyone else in the room was silent, staring at him in amazement. Draco glanced at Dumbledore again.
He had a small, tight-lipped smile on his face for a moment before it faded and he put his hand on the minister's shoulder. Scrimegour shrugged it off and took a step closer to Draco's bed, bending towards his face to gaze icily directly into Draco's eyes.
"Don't forget who I am. Your recalcitrance will not come without a price." he hissed. He threw a sharp look at Dumbledore when the professor cleared his throat and smiled, his annoyance finally showing from behind his spectacles.
"Do be more pleasant to my student, Minister. Remember, he is still fairly ill."
Scrimegour straightened and then started talking again in a normal voice. "I shall see you soon, Mr. Malfoy. Maybe by then, you will want to talk civilly. I want to hear directly from your mouth what happened to Mr. Potter…"
With a swish of his robes, He spun on his heel and left as dignified as he could after he had just gotten chewed out by someone a third his age.
Draco blinked a few times as the man's words sank in.
"Sir…" Draco drawled in slight distaste at addressing him as such, "did you tell him exactly who I was before you came in this room?" Dumbledore raised an eyebrow again and slowly shook his head. Draco furrowed his eyebrows in concentration and barely noticed that Dumbledore had left the room.
Sighing, Draco noticed that his godfather had disappeared sometime during of after the heated exchange between him and the Minister. Draco felt a bit put out that he wasn't there, but it made his task a bit easier, Draco slowly tried to stand up, but his legs wouldn't support him, so he grabbed the bed as he fell, landing half on/ half off the bed. He gritted his teeth and pulled himself back up onto the bed.
'Shit…' He looked around to the bedside table, but his wand wasn't anywhere in sight. 'Guess I'll have to do this the hard way.' Draco put weight on his legs again. This time, though they still felt like jelly, they held.
Making his way down the hall was torture to his unsteady legs but at least he wasn't being mauled by random students this early in the day. Hell, most of the portraits on the walls were still snoozing away happily. Draco's upper lip curled in disgust at one ugly witch who was drooling slightly, a snot bubble slowly forming in her left nostril.
He suddenly felt the floor suddenly lurch and heave upwards. He held his stomach, praying not to vomit, and tried to stay on his feet and he nearly made it but stumbled into a window. He gripped the sill to keep himself upright.
Using the wall for support, he made his way down the hall until an unfamiliar hallway he didn't want to take appeared. He made a clumsy lunge for the next bit of wall but missed and smacked his head on the shoe piece of a suit of armor standing in a notch directly set into the corner as he fell.
"Now why the bloody hell would that tin can be right there? I could have sworn it belongs on the third floor… near that horrendous portrait of the three trolls." He rubbed his hand over the sore spot and then ran it through his hair. He hadn't had the time to reapply any sort of gel or anything, so his bleach blonde locks settled over his eyes as he looked down the hallway from his position on the floor.
'Never realized my hair was this long…' Draco huffed in a very un-Malfoy-ish manner as he pulled himself up using the armor for support. He squinted, confused, as he gazed down the long hallway. It wasn't the one he had been in a few seconds ago. It wasn't even on the same floor.
Draco glanced behind me and then had to look up. And up; until he found the face of a familiar wizard glaring at him, his eyes alight in fury.
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It was a whole day before Sirius woke up, mostly because of the toll the veil had taken on his body, but when he finally did wake up the first person he asked for was Harry. The man that had first found him tried to be as helpful as he could but apparently he was having trouble contacting anyone from Hogwarts and no luck contacting Remus Lupin.
"Can't we Floo there? Shouldn't Hogwarts be connected to at least one fire here?" he asked.
"Sorry, but after the incident here about three and a half years ago with the return of Voldemort, when you disappeared into the veil, the school hasn't been open to our use. At least not without prior permission. I'm afraid I have to wait for the owl to return," Stephen explained. Sirius dropped his face into his palms and let out a slow sigh of a mix between anger and annoyance.
'Why can't anything be easy?' "That's it… I'm Apparating. Give me my wand," Sirius demanded.
"Number one, you can't Apparate inside Hogwarts; number two, your wand, which I won't give to you because you are much too weak and traumatized to get very far without splinching yourself, is still in the Curtain's room," he stated matter-of-factly. Sirius clenched his jaw in an extreme effort not to punch the man and 'borrow' his wand. The man, ever since going to the front desk earlier, had been extremely nervous and was very insistent on keeping Sirius out of sight, which was proving near impossible.
"I need to get there as soon as possible! Can't you understand that?" he roared, emphasizing with hand gestures.
"Sirius, my old friend, I do not think that shouting will be of much help to you," said a sudden voice behind him. Sirius spun around in shock and both of the men stood shocked for a long moment, staring at the face of Dumbledore, who had appeared in the large, cozy fire. "Now, isn't that better?" Smiling wryly, without the usual twinkle, Dumbledore stepped the rest of the way out of the fire and then made a sweeping bow to the two stunned men, both of whom started sputtering at the exact same time. Sirius managed to make it through the first word first.
"Williamson told me you were dead!" he started and then shook his head. "Never mind that. You're alive and that's what counts. How is Harry? And Remus? Are you going to take me back to Hogwarts right now? What about Voldemort? What became of him?" Dumbledore had to finally hold up his hand to stop the onslaught of questions and to stop Sirius from pacing a hole through the carpeting.
"I shall answer all of your questions when we arrive at Hogwarts. Remus should be there by now and the rest of the Order shall be arriving within a few hours. There are many things I am afraid I must inform you of… oh and, of course, Mr. Williamson… would you come here please?"
Sirius looked over at the short man. He had looked pale ever since Dumbledore had shown up and now was trembling head to toe.
"Y-yes s-sir." Dumbledore bent over to see him at eye level and looked at him over the top of his half moon spectacles as he approached.
"Now, as you probably realize… I am a very busy man-," Williamson nodded quickly, his ponytail bobbing up and down. "- and it would be a shame if word of my reappearance got out before I was on top of things. Work builds up quite quickly when you are dead for a year and a half." Williamson opened his mouth to argue but was cut short by Dumbledore holding up his hand again. "I will not inform anyone of your role in Sirius's return and I will reappear officially in a few day's time, deal?"
Dumbledore didn't even wait for the stunned man's reply before straightening and striding back to the fire. Sirius looked back at the man and then went to Dumbledore's side, waiting for him to pull out his Floo powder and throw it in the fire, but Dumbledore didn't move, just looked at Sirius curiously.
"Aren't we forgetting something?" he asked, raising an eyebrow and tapping his wand on his temple. Sirius blinked once and then grinned sheepishly, making Dumbledore smile (a bit wryly in Sirius's opinion) and then wave his wand. "Accio," he called. Moments later Sirius's wand floated through the cracked doorway and into Sirius's hand. Both men disappeared into the fire after saying "Hogwarts."
As soon as they stepped out of the fire, Sirius heard a strangled yelp and a clatter like a heavy chair falling over. He turned to see what the noise was all about and then saw Remus standing still, an overturned chair next to him. His face was completely white, 'like he had just seen a…' Sirius cut his thought short, not finishing the pointless statement. 'Yeah… last time he saw me I was falling through the damn veil.'
Sirius gave him a kind of crooked smile as if to say 'who else did you expect?'
"What can I say? I guess I am not as easy to get rid of as you thought," Sirius joked. Remus looked, if possible, even paler when Sirius spoke, as if he had been trying to convince himself that he was just going crazy. "What? No hug?" He asked, casually holding his arms outspread.
The statement apparently brought Remus to his senses because he grinned suddenly and then strode over to Sirius and gave him a huge bear hug.
Remus let go and took a step back, taking a shuddering breath and wiping the corner of his eye, still grinning heartily.
"Professor Dumbledore" Sirius started, "where's Harry? I need to see him… you know; make sure he is okay. I'd bet anything he hasn't had it easy thinking me to be… dead…" Sirius trailed off when he saw the stricken look that flashed across Remus's face. He turned so he was facing Dumbledore squarely. "Did something happen while I was gone?" he asked quietly, feeling goose bumps raise along his arms.
Dumbledore, in a matter of a few moments, had transformed from a powerful wizard into an old, gray-haired man, the wrinkles on his brow deepening past the point he had ever seen them. The light seemed to have gone out in his eyes the moment Sirius had mentioned his godson.
"Merlin… tell me. Right now… If something has happened I need to know!" he pleaded. Dumbledore sighed and then sat down behind his desk, moving slowly.
"Voldemort is now dead," he started out. Sirius jerked his head in surprise.
"You're sure?" Dumbledore nodded and then continued.
"He was killed yesterday morning; the same time as the veil released you. Apparently the veil was keyed to Voldemort's power signature and when he was killed, the veil's power failed and released you. Harry… he was the one that defeated and killed Voldemort… all by himself, but… Sirius…" Dumbledore's voice told it all. Sirius's jaw went slack and his shoulders slumped before Dumbledore even voiced it. "Harry is dead." He paused and then added "Lucius Malfoy killed him and then vanished."
Sirius's knees buckled as he sank to the floor. Still sitting upright, he buried his face in his hands. After a moment he moved his hands and ran them back through his hair. His face, slack one moment, radically hardened to rage.
"No! I can't believe he would be that reckless!" yelled Sirius, his voice hoarse. Remus, his eyes haunted, remained silent as Sirius ranted, too choked up to speak. Typically, it was right then that Snape decided to intrude through the doorway.
He took the sight in with glance and firmly stated, "We didn't even know he was gone until the next morning." Sirius slowly rose and turned to face him.
"He took off in the middle of the night. Voldemort had taken Granger and Weasley captive and sent a ransom letter. You really think he would have sat back and watched as we took everything into our own hands? I thought you knew him better than that," he sneered.
"The question is, how could you have lost track of him!" Sirius retorted, clenching his fingers like he was itching to get them around Snape's throat, then quickly turned back to Dumbledore. "You know very well about him and his damn hero tendencies!" Dumbledore rested his chin on his clasped hands and then shifted them to rub his temples wearily. "How could you even let him see the letter let alone leave him alone for any amount of time after something like that?"
"That's enough Sirius… He intercepted the note before it made its way to my hands and he never showed it to us. He took the Portkey to the graveyard where Voldemort was resurrected; alone." Dumbledore's voice changed centesimally, adding a sense of awe to his voice as he went on. "He battled Voldemort and his Death Eaters with the help of only one, unexpected person. Draco… Draco Malfoy." Dumbledore paused. "Harry saved Draco's life, Sirius… he died in the process." Sirius's eyes narrowed.
"What are you talking about? Harry would never save that slimy son-of-a-git at the cost of his own. That's… there is absolutely no way."
"Actually it's true…" Remus confirmed wearily and then added "Sirius," after a moment's hesitation. The sound of him finally speaking up made goose bumps form on Sirius's arms and he walked over to the fireplace again, rubbing his arms. "If there had been any opportunity for Harry to save anyone at any time, you know very well that Harry wouldn't hesitate." Sirius shook his head slowly, still processing it all. He needed some space. Some quiet place to think.
"I need some time alone. I'll be back in a few hours," Sirius stated and then strode out of the room headed toward the Room, not bothering to wait for a reply.
This was not the welcome home he had been thinking of.
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Hands pulled Draco upright. He couldn't see the face of the wizard anymore, but he could still feel the smoldering glare of the man pulling him to his feet.
"What do you think you are doing?" Draco snapped. The second Draco was balanced, he let go of him and stood back.
"You're the one that's out of bed. Harry died for you… (Draco flinched) You should at least be responsible enough to wait until you're healed before you go gallivanting off on your own accord. You should be grateful. I sure as hell don't understand why he did it…" Black trailed off. Draco, for the first time since he could remember ever doing, didn't meet his eyes.
Then, Black wearily sunk to the floor, crossed his legs, put his head in his hands, and, to Draco's complete astonishment, apologized.
"I just don't know what to think anymore. I thought I was never going to see him again because of being trapped in the veil, which your bastard of a father probably told you all about," he spat. It didn't feel like it was an insult directed towards Draco himself, so he stayed silent, studying the wreck of a man before him. He actually felt sorry for him.
Draco blinked. 'What the hell is with me… two days ago I couldn't have cared less if something like this had happened… Damn him… he made me go soft…' Draco blew out of his mouth heavily and decided not to leave just yet.
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(1) I looked up prick on my dictionary thing… and these were the two results I got for the second meaning: 1.) taboo term: a taboo term for a penis. 2.) taboo term: a taboo term for a man regarded as pathetically inadequate or unpleasant. Hmm…I wonder which she meant or if she meant one meaning to regard the other as well… teehee… lol
(2) Sorry if that statement came out wrong… I just meant that he felt like he had botched trying to keep from his father's habits, aka not thinking about him.
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Acknowledgements:
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(From prequel)
themauraudersaremine: #ducks the sharp flying objects# … lmao… teehee… I dunno how you are supposed to type… but you did manage it… hmm… #sits on thinking rock and ponders for three days straight# hmm… I think the answer is that you never did give me the keyboard because you can't shove it through the phone line… hmm… I think… anyways… lol… I feel sorry for Lucius if you ever got your hands on him… #wince# and yeah it was a cheap shot from Malfoy wasn't it… lol… but at least he hasn't actually killed Harry… #grins evilly# …yet… Muah hah hah hah hah hah!