Puzzy: Ok, so I was listening to an old cd one day, and thought, this song is just SO DRACO...
Penny: Ooh! What was the song?
Puzzy: Linkin Park's Leave out all the rest. It just wouldn't get out of my head... The sadness, the complete misery of not leaving behind anything worth while.. It just stuck in my head.
Penny: I'm swooning already!
Puzzy: Well, I listened to it on repeat for a couple of days - drove my family nuts - and then a plot suddenly had formed in my head. Penny, you know the story ;) I didn't feel like writing it all by my self, so...
Penny: Here I am! I am honored to be included in this, and I hope I did okay LOL :/
Puzzy: More than okay, hun! You're doing great! The story wouldn't be the same without you :D And now for the fun part - can you readers guess, who did which POV?
Penny: That will be fun to see! Aww, thank you, sweets :)
Puzzy: You're more than welcome! Now, people, read on and enjoy the show! We don't own, sadly - we just love to corrupt children's books characters with our dirty minds...
Penny: Hahaha! We do! Special thanks to Corey for prereading and betaing this for us! Enjoy!
-oOo-
DPOV
"Sectumsempra!"
I registered Potter's voice ringing out through a haze; the pain slashing across my chest like white hot pokers being raked over my skin, causing all of my other senses to dull as I sunk to the wet floor. The hand holding my wand in an otherwise sure grip disobeyed me and my fingers loosened, causing my beloved hawthorn wand to drop. My last conscious image was Harry Potter's amazingly emerald eyes fraught with worry above me. Then everything went black.
When I came to, I found myself in the hospital wing. Aching all over, but especially my chest. I tried to sit up. A gentle hand on my shoulder kept me down, though. Potter's hand. He was clutching my hand with his other one; holding on tightly as if I'd disappear before his very eyes.
"What happened? What are you doing, Potter? The she-weasel isn't cutting it for you?" I blurbed, resorting to my usual sarcasm, even though my head was flooded with confusion. Why was I in the hospital wing; Potter holding my hand like some long lost lover? Last I checked, we were casting hexes at each other in the bathroom, wreaking havoc to the whole room. In fact, I'd just tried to cast a Cruciatus curse on him!
Closing my eyes, I tried to recall what the last thing on my mind was, but only searing pain still echoing on my chest came to mind, and then a flash of Potter's eyes above me. My whole body jerked in shock and my eyes shot wide open.
"YOU! You HEXED me! Sliced me open like a ripe peach, you bastard!" I bellowed, whirling my head around so fast that my neck creaked and pulled my hand from his grasp; grabbing for my wand on the bed side table.
Potter just sat there, no reaction other than a small cringe and his eyes closed, like he was the one in pain.
"I know," was his quiet reply, muttered so softly that I barely heard it through my rage, "I'm so sorry."
Heaving for breath, I fell back on my stack of pillows; shooting pains running through my chest from the lines that I could still feel there. Maybe overreaction was a bad idea in my current condition; it still hurt like hell. What kind of spell was that anyway? I'd never heard of it before. It was certainly efficient.
"Are you alright, Malfoy? Should I call for Madam Pomfrey?" I heard Potter's soft voice ask beside me.
Was I alright? Not by any means, but sadly it wasn't in Madam Pomfrey's power to help me with this. The anxiety that had overcome me in the bathroom earlier once again started building, aided by my physical ailments, making my breathing pick up along with my pulse. The blood hammered in my veins, my vision started to blacken and my lungs struggled to fill with a never sufficient air supply. My knees drew up to my chest by their own volition and I fell on my side, curling up in a foetal position and wrapping my arms tightly around my legs.
"No, I'm not alright. I'm not alright at all, Potter," I don't know what made me whisper that confession to him of all people, but the words slipped from my lips without me being able to stop them. Screwing my eyes shut, I still couldn't prevent the tears from leaking down my temple. Shuddering with poorly withheld sobs, my body made the whole bed shake under me. Gasping, sobbing, cursing under my breath; I cried out my loathing of this life, this damned existence where the Dark Lord controlled my every move.
A warm hand gently rubbed my back between my shoulder blades; soothing and secure without any demands or expectations. A soft hushing accompanied it, and I opened my eyes to meet Potter's unwavering green gaze. He really had beautiful eyes.
HPOV
Merlin, I didn't know that hex would hurt Malfoy this much. I only meant to stun him, not try to murder him. I was only trying to help in the loo; I'd never seen him so upset and desperate looking before. And when he turned and shouted at me, I couldn't help it. The hex just flew out at him. He thought he owned bloody everything, because he was a Malfoy. My anger just got the better of me.
With that said, I was still very regretful for what I had done. I wasn't a violent person by nature, and I shouldn't have used an unfamiliar hex on another person. It was because Hermione was right. I was obsessed with that damned book and with the Half Blood Prince. I had definitely learned my lesson, and I would never cast an unknown spell again.
When Malfoy curled up and started to panic, I didn't know what to do, so I did the only thing I could think of, brought on by guilt. I carefully rubbed in between his shoulder blades, trying to shush him. No one, not even Malfoy, should be in such distress.
His body stiffened when I first touched him, but then he looked at me with impossibly silver eyes, brimming with pain and tears, and I kept his gaze, hoping he would calm.
"Please forgive me, Malfoy," I hedged. "Please...what can I do to help you?"
He was making me nervous. Clearly, there was something besides the hex that was bothering him. Madame Pomfrey was a good healer and I knew her treatment wouldn't have caused this reaction in him.
"What's it to you, Potter?" he spat through clenched teeth, but I knew it was a mask he was putting on. I could tell it from the desperation and despair in his silver tinged eyes.
"Fuck it," I huffed, letting my hand drop to my lap. "I feel like shit for hexing you, and I know there is something going on with you, but you still have to be an arrogant prick and refuse help. I am truly sorry for what I did to you, but I'm not going to sit here and listen to you insult me."
I got to my feet and started to turn away but Malfoy's hand shot out and grabbed my wrist. "No!" he pleaded in a voice laced with fear. I stopped and looked down at him on the bed. He was still shaking, almost crying, and still breathing roughly.
"What?" I demanded, trying to pull out of his grasp but he held me still. Those long, elegant fingers were strong.
"Please..." he whispered, his voice full of pain, fear, and insecurity. "Don't go."
Unable to resist his pleading eyes, I slowly sat in the chair and stared at him. He'd better start explaining, fast.
DPOV
I hadn't actually expected him to sit back down. Considering our history, I'd anticipated him huffing at me and then storming off to join his weasel gang and the bushy-haired girl. I never thought that he'd give in. And I didn't really know what made me plead for him to listen, except for the fact that he was Harry freaking Potter. Supposed saviour of the wizarding world, the boy who lived, hero extraordinaire...
He was my only hope in regards of slipping from the Dark Lord's grasp, basically. Snape was a Death Eater himself, as was my father. Dumbledore... Well.. To be honest, he scared me to death, plus his eccentricity was absolutely confounding to me. I wasn't sure if I could carry more than two minutes of conversation with him. My best bet was Potter. My only bet was Potter.
And he reached out to me. When I broke down, he tried to comfort me, like he would a friend. We'd done nothing but fight and spew hate at each other from the first day on the Hogwarts Express, but still he had been there for me in my distress.
"Well, are you gonna explain or what?" he sniped at me, clearly losing his patience.
"Potter, this is by no means easy for me, but if you'd spare me a moment to get settled, I'll do my best to let you in on the details of my personal life," I retorted with my best sneer in place. Catching his eyes and holding them, I slowly sat up and re-situated the pillows behind me so I could recline comfortably. When I'd finished settling down, I steeled myself with a deep breath and started my sad tale.
"As you very well know, last summer, the Dark Lord returned. As one of his most loyal and trusted followers, and possibly as punishment for his complete failure at the ministry, my father's manor was chosen as His headquarters and I was forced to endure having both Him and a constant slew of Death Eaters in my house." I shifted slightly and looked down at my lap, bracing myself to continue; my head flooded with gruesome memories of the summer.
Looking up at Potter again and receiving an encouraging nod, I continued. "My father, as always, too eager to please his Lord, offered my services here at Hogwarts. At first, I adamantly refused; having no interest in becoming a Death Eater or worshipping the Dark Lord. Contrary to ordinary belief, I do not share my father's convictions." Potter looked at me in disbelief, a small smirk curling at the corner of his full lips.
"I have no desire for power, no thirst for violence, nor disregard for muggle-borns. That was all a front; a carefully crafted facade upheld to deceive my family and house mates here at school." I stared hard in his eyes, trying to make him see the strategy I'd adapted since third year, where I formed my own opinions instead of just emulating my father's.
"Anyway, at my continued refusal, the Dark Lord lost his patience and did what he does best. He found my biggest weakness, and used it against me until I gave in. If I did not agree to do his bidding, he would kill my mother. I am sure, I do not need to explain to you how I was affected by this; of course I accepted," my breath hitched in my throat at the thought of any harm coming to my dear mother. She might act cold and unapproachable in public, but as a child I had been cuddled in her love and affection; still was, actually.
Concluding my story, I continued. "Shortly before my departure to school, I was branded with the Dark Mark and assigned two separate tasks. One - I have to find a way to smuggle in Death Eaters to the castle. Two - I have to kill Dumbledore; effectively ridding the Dark Lord of his most powerful adversary, besides yourself. If I fail, or desert my tasks, my mother will suffer a horrible death. Now do you understand my dilemma, Potter?" Still looking him directly in the eyes, I saw them widen with the comprehension of my situation. I could literally hear the cogs whirring in his mind, trying to work out a solution to my predicament.
"Merlin's pants, Malfoy! Why didn't you go to Dumbledore with this? Surely, he will be able to help you!" Potter, ever the faithful and brave Gryffindor, exclaimed; so naive in his faith in our Headmaster's almighty abilities.
"What, Potter? What could he possibly do? He's the main target! And Death Eaters in his school? He'd never stand for that - not in a million years. He might try to get my mother out of the Dark Lord's clutches, but he would fail and it would surely alert Him of my treachery. A surefire way to get her killed, don't you think? No, Dumbledore is not an option. I have to work out an ingenuous solution - one that will not cause suspicion and endanger neither the school, Dumbledore nor my mother," Exhausted with a mix of anxiety and physical exertion, I reclined back, heaving a deep sigh.
Potter sat quietly beside the bed for long minutes, deep in thought. His brow wrinkled adorably above his round glasses and he was biting a thumb nail - his tell, whenever he was thinking hard. Raising his eyes, he looked at me thoughtfully for a moment before asking:
"How do I know that you're not just spinning a tale here, Malfoy? How do I know that this isn't some elaborate Death Eater ploy you're feeding me?"
HPOV
My mind was spinning with everything Malfoy had just told me, and naturally, it was hard to believe. He had always been the arrogant prick of Hogwarts, flashing his name around whenever he wanted something. It was odd, to say the least, to hear him telling me he wasn't power hungry and didn't hate Muggle borns. Hell, I think he gave Hermione a complex from calling her that awful name!
But, then again, I could sort of see why he would have to put on the front. If my mum was alive and someone like Voldemort was threatening to kill her if I didn't do his bidding, I would be afraid enough to do what he asked, too.
I didn't have any problem believing that Voldemort had holed up at Malfoy Manor, though. that seemed like the perfect place for him to go, given how Lucius Malfoy kisses his arse. And as for Lucius offering the help of his son to curry favor with Voldemort? I could believe that too. Lucius was the most vicious man I knew, aside from Snape, and Voldemort, of course.
The thing that had me so gobsmacked was that Malfoy claimed to have to commit murder. To kill Dumbledore, of all people! I found it hard to believe that someone like Malfoy would just tell someone that, especially his arch enemy.
But, then again, if his mother was in the danger Malfoy claimed her to be, maybe he would be so desperate to ask someone for help.
On the other hand, he was a Slytherin. Weren't all Slytherins destined to be Death Eaters? And with the way Lucius was, how could Malfoy not try to follow in his daddy's footsteps? You know, family pride and all that?
"I swear to you, Potter, I am speaking the truth," Malfoy stated quietly, breaking me out of my thoughts. I looked into his eyes and saw the same pleading stare he gave me when I was about to leave.
My mind was plagued by my conflicting thoughts. Was Malfoy telling the truth, or was he lying? Over and over, my mind raced, as I stared into those tortured eyes. He was begging me to believe him, to help him. And I knew how it felt to be in a situation you have no control over; I saw it every time I looked in the bloody mirror.
Still sceptical, I slowly shook my head. "I don't know, Malfoy..."
His eyes widened and in a move completely uncharacteristic for him, he clutched the sleeve of my robes. "But I know about the horcruxes!" he pleaded desperately, and I sat frozen. What did he just say?
"What?" I whispered, feeling like the wind had been knocked out of me.
DPOV
Potter's gobsmacked expression confirmed for me that somehow, someone - probably Dumbledore himself - had figured out what enabled the Dark Lord to return. And that Potter was in the know too, probably sent on a witch hunt by Dumbledore to destroy the dark creations.
It made sense - if my limited research in my father's library held true, He Who Must Not Be Named couldn't be defeated if the horcruxes still existed. I had a little private theory as well, since I heard the fragments of the prophecy that the Dark Lord had discussed with his most trusted followers in my father's study during the summer. Thank Merlin for heating vents that carried sound. But I would need more information before I could draw any conclusions...
"Yes, Potter. I have done my homework. I overheard the Dark Lord talking to my aunt Bellatrix about them this summer, ordering her to hide one of them in her private vault at Gringotts. My curiosity was peaked, since I'd never heard of such a thing before. I used my time wisely, Potter, gathering every possible piece of information that could be aide me in this desperate Catch-22 I seem to have put myself in. Trolling my father's library and reading every Dark Arts book that I could get my hands on, searching for anything and everything that could be of help."
I gave him my trademark raised eyebrow, enjoying his slight squirm. Apparently, Potter hadn't put quite as much effort into his extra curricular studies. Well, that was going to change, if I had my way. If he relented and accepted to help me with a plan, I would drive him hard in our research. This MUST succeed. Failure was not an option. I had to keep my mother alive.
Pewter met emerald as I held his gaze, pleading for his acquiescence; long silent minutes stretching between us while I silently begged him. Please, Potter. Please help me. You are the only one who can.
An almost imperceptible nod from him caused my shoulders to sag in relief; releasing a tension that I wasn't even aware of in my body. Shooting pain radiated from the wounds across my chest at the slight movement and I hissed sharply at the sting. Potter's eyebrows wrinkled in concern and his hand stretched out, undoing the buttons of my shirt. Surely, he only meant to see the damage and had no ulterior motives behind undressing me, but I felt a pang of arousal in my lower stomach anyway. He had no way of knowing what thoughts I'd entertained behind my closed bed curtains late at night, but I knew.
Stilling completely and praying desperately for my notorious blush to stay away, I waited for him to spread the lapels of my shirt and uncover my skin. Intently, I watched his expression shift from concern to remorse with a wince, when he saw what had made me hiss. I followed his line of sight and took in the angry red twin scars crossing in parallel diagonal lines from my left shoulder to my lower right rib cage. No wonder it hurt like fiend fyre - those were serious cuts that could have caused my death.
"Ouch Potter, what the hell kind of spell was that anyway? And how did you prevent it from killing me? Those look serious; I'm amazed that the bleeding alone didn't kill me!" I exclaimed, indignant that he would have hexed me like that.
Sitting back in his seat and leaving me to button back up myself, he mumbled out,
"Snape came by, attracted by the noises, just as I'd cast the spell. He found me hovering over you and trying to stop the bleeding with my bare hands. He pushed me aside and healed you, before ordering me to take you up here. I have to report to his office in a bit for my punishment and a status report on how you're doing." He looked down on his hands, wringing them in his lap.
"And the hex? What curse was it? It could be useful against Death Eaters and such...," I trailed off, confused by the obvious discomfort Potter was in. Even though I was angry, I certainly couldn't fault him for trying to defend himself against my feeble attempt at a Cruciatus curse.
"It's called Sectumsempra. I don't know much about it though. It was scribbled in the margin of a book. I didn't know it would do this. It was just marked with 'to use against enemies'. I really am sorry, Malfoy - I never meant to cause any harm," at that he looked up at me again; sparkling green eyes filled with apology.
"Pish posh - It just makes me more rugged to look at. I'm still as devastatingly handsome as always," I said arrogantly but with a smirk to lighten the situation. Potter blushed surprisingly and nodded, while muttering something I couldn't make out. Clearing his throat, he responded,
"Thank you. I don't deserve your forgiveness for this, but I'm glad for it. I better go to Snape now, but I'll check back in as soon as I can. We can discuss how to plan our counter actions then, alright?" He asked as he stood from his chair.
"Yes, fine, Potter. And thank you for agreeing to this. It really means a lot to me," I reached out my right hand for the second time in the six years I'd known him, hoping that this time, he'd accept it.
Warm, dry fingers gripped mine, palms slid together and with one single shake, our tentative friendship began. Releasing me, he turned on his heel and departed. Following his back with my eyes, I fell back in the pillows, releasing a deep sigh of relief. I had hope now.
HPOV
As I trudged down to the dungeons, I contemplated everything Malfoy had told me. It was his admission to knowing about the horcruxes that finally convinced me that he was telling the truth. He even told me where one was hidden. I know he wouldn't have told me that if he were lying.
What surprised me the most, I think, was his demeanor. We never talked as equals before, but during the whole time in the hospital wing, we did. It was strange, but somehow relieving. Honestly, I needed as few enemies as possible these days.
Toward the end of our conversation, when Malfoy asked me about the curse, I was surprised and a bit embarrassed when he told me the scars made him more rugged and handsome. I had just boldly reached out and opened his shirt, shocked at what I had done to him, but also somewhat turned on by his pale chest, marred by what I had done to him. In the few seconds I had seen it, I tried to etch it into my mind. He was toned from Quidditch, more toned than I thought he would be, with slight lines defining his muscles. He was hairless, and I reckoned that if I had reached out and touched him, his skin would feel like silk.
I could feel heat creep up my face as I thought about Malfoy like that. Of course, I hadn't had any lovers, with all I had to go through all the time. There was always worry and research...a never ending fight to stay alive and protect the people I cared about. But, the fact remained that I was a sixteen year old, and my hormones were crazy.
My close friends knew I preferred men, much to the displeasure of Ginny, but I never had the chance to indulge. So, with that said, I wasn't surprised in the least when I saw Malfoy's naked chest and my prick started to harden. The only thing that concerned me was who exactly it was hardening over.
Unfortunately, I had arrived at Snape's office, and I knocked quietly. A muffled "Enter" sounded from the other side of the door, and I quietly went in to face my fate.
Puzzy: So, what do you think? Wanna read more? Did you enjoy the total turn-around from Draco? Did you like how Harry is taken aback by his own thoughts? Let us know!
Penny: Just hit that little button below... ;)