Chapter 3: Cor Videt
Draco really should avoid eating in the Great Hall. Everyone seems to go out of their way to remind him that he's scum at best and nothing at worst. If he's not suffering the dirty looks, he's watching them pretend he doesn't exist. Every morning he thinks the same - that he'll just start eating in the bloody kitchens - but every morning he comes back.
"Ouch, who did that handiwork?" Blaise says as greeting when he sits. Blaise is about the only exception to the 'everyone' crowd.
"Greenberg. He thinks I'm solely responsible for every shitty thing that's ever happened in his sad, little life."
Blaise turns to glare at the Ravenclaw table, "what are you going to do about it?"
Draco smiles at the underlying question, 'how are you going to make them pay?'
"I have something in mind," he replied vaguely. Once upon a time, if someone had dared to mess with Draco Malfoy, they were either unhinged or Harry Potter. But now everyone wants a piece of him. Everyone wants to put him in his place. As he ponders on why he hasn't executed his revenge yet, hundreds of owls sweep in from the high windows to deliver their posts. Draco instantly spots his black eagle owl amongst them, quite easily the largest and most impressive owl at the school. She lands on Draco's shoulder gracefully, her claws gently piercing into his cloak. "Hey girl, what you have?" he affectionately asks as he scratches under her chin.
He takes the letter from her and opens it anxiously, not bothering to hope for any good news:
Dearest Draco,
I apologize for not getting back to you sooner. With your father's trial and the Ministry's inspections, I haven't had a peaceful moment to myself. The Ministry has confiscated a few family heirlooms, many of which were meant to be passed down to you. As you can imagine I'm quite upset to see our home ripped to shreds by these… What's the word for people that do not understand the significance of their history? Neanderthals?
I'm getting off topic. I know you think that's because I have bad news and I'm stalling. You are right as usual, Draco. Your father's trial did not go well. Pleading guilty has reduced his sentence substantially, but the minimum sentence is 13 years. Our only saving grace is that he did not side with the Dark Lord during the Final Battle. I'm so grateful you're not going through this any longer. You're still not safe, but you staying at Hogwarts soothes my worries.
I tried speaking to the Aurors again. They either do not care or are utterly incompetent. They refuse to see the direness of the situation. It seems we can't rely on them. That may be for the best. It appears that we're alone in this, so lightly we must tread.
When I can provide a safe passage home, I'll expect you to visit. For now, please do not leave the grounds. Please be careful and keep your head down (and your eyes open). And remember, trust no one.
With love,
Mother
Draco puts his letter down with a heavy heart. It doesn't surprise him that the Ministry is making an example out of the Malfoy family, which means they are truly alone. Without the Ministry's help, Draco isn't sure how he'll survive the year. He can't imagine running from the Death Eaters for the rest of his life.
He looks over to Blaise, who's received a letter of his own. "Anything noteworthy?" he asks in a bored voice.
Blaise looks at him uneasily, subtly trying to put his letter away. "Nothing really," he says guiltily.
"For a Slytherin, you're an atrocious liar." Draco smirks as he casually plucks Blaise's letter out of his hands.
"Give that back, Draco!" Blaise demands as he unsuccessfully tries to retrieve the letter. Draco pushes him away with one hand, while catching phrases such as 'your obligation', 'stay away from Malfoy' and 'dishonourable name'.
Blaise finally snatches his letter back and folds it up possessively. "You can't just go around grabbing people's things!"
"What is that about?" Draco hisses at him. "Your family wants you to stay away from me?"
"Yes! After all that's happened, what did you expect?" Blaise asks quietly, unable to look at Draco directly in the eye.
If possible, Draco's mood sinks even lower, but he supposes he shouldn't be surprised. He never spoke to Blaise about the night the Death Eaters came on the train and knocked him out. Being associated with Draco Malfoy is not only dishonourable, it's dangerous.
"What are you going to tell them?"
"What they want to hear," Blaise says shortly.
Draco arches his left eyebrow up imploringly. "I didn't realize you were the compliant sort. I thought you were aiming to be your 'own man'." It's something that Blaise has always prided himself being.
"Well… it's actually my decision too. Being associated with you hurts my chances of getting a job with the Ministry." He at least has the grace to look at him now. "I'm sorry, but I think it's best if we don't speak… just until things cool down."
Draco stares hard at his only friend, willing him to take the words back. But all Blaise does is turn his back on him. He has the sudden urge to punch Blaise in the back of the head. Instead, Draco begins to eat his breakfast with forced calmness. Chewing mechanically on his toast, all he can tastes are ashes as he swallows the bitter taste of disappointment.
As he looks about himself, a disquieting sensation overcomes him. He feels like he isn't really there, like he doesn't quite exist. No one at all is paying him any mind, not even the usual glares. Everyone is preoccupied with the start of the day and what it has to offer. The few Slytherins that remain are uniformly ignoring him. At the Ravenclaw table, he notices Greenberg bragging about his flying skills. Wasn't it just yesterday that Greenberg had beaten him to a pulp? He catches Loony Lovegood debating the existence of the Crumple-Horned Snorkack. But he still remembers her held captive at the Manor for nearly a year.
Looking towards the Gryffindors is even more sickening. He remembers what the Carrors had made him do to so many of them, and worse of all to Neville Longbottom. Seeing Longbottom laughing now is more than Draco could bear. How could he so easily forget what Draco had done? How could he not want Draco dead? Draco's eyes trail over to Weasley next, who's currently looking over Granger's shoulder at her timetables. He doesn't understand why Weasley never confronted him about the poison back in sixth year.
And then there's Perfect Potter. Draco's scowl deepens as he takes in his general appearance; the lack of sleep in his hair, the stiffness in his posture and something like loss in his expression. He's holding a letter protectively with both hands, seeming to debate if he should open it or not. Potter slightly shakes his head and stores the letter away, resolved to 'read' it in private later. It's at this moment that Potter lifts his face and meets Draco's eyes.
Draco, in pure shock, almost chokes on his coffee. That Potter noticed him staring is nearly enough to make Draco avert his gaze hastily. But that's impossible; Potter can't notice a thing because he's blind. So Draco refuses to look away, even though the urge to do so increases as Potter seems to actually look right at him. Except – Draco tilts his head a bit - it's not like before. He's only ever seen resentment in those eyes, but looking hard now, he can't see any trace of that. Only green remains.
Draco knows he should look away, but he's held captive by an impossible thought. "You can see me," he whispers aloud. But then Potter averts his gaze and the vacant stare returns to his eyes. Draco continues shamelessly staring, hoping against hope that someone, even that blind bastard, noticed him. When Potter spills his scrambled eggs all over Granger, Draco ducks his head to hide his embarrassment. He realizes with an appalling clarify that he's losing his mind.
"Bloody unbelievable!" Ron exclaims loudly after hearing Hermione's account of what happened in Potion's yesterday. "You would think that after everything, that maybe he would be less of a git, that he would show some gratitude for not being locked up or dead."
"Ron, not so loud. Madame Pince is starting to glare daggers at you," Hermione whispers.
"I just can't believe he doesn't feel at all guilty for what happened in the forest," Ron seethes.
"As much as I would love to blame Malfoy for my lack of sight, he wasn't the one who cursed me," Harry counters.
"You still put yourself at risk for him. The least he can do is kiss the ground you walk on."
"But I always put myself at risk," Harry flashes a smile to his friends. "I can be a bloody idiot sometimes."
"I won't disagree with you there," Hermione mutters as she turns a page in her textbook. "You know, this is the most you've said since we got back. Does this mean you're feeling a little better?"
"I dunno. I guess my first day back wasn't so bad." At Ron's amused scoff, Harry tries to explain, "Things have been really difficult since I got back. I haven't been able to do anything by myself, and everyone's been acting so damned careful around me. It's a little suffocating, honestly."
"Oh, Harry! We didn't mean to -"
"No, Hermione, I'm not blaming you. I'm just saying that I was getting tired of feeling so -dependant. And in Potions yesterday, for the first time in a long while, I guess I kinda felt like my old self."
"A Malfoy-hater, through and through?" Ron asks.
"'Useful' is what I was going for." Harry replies in amusement.
"I wish you had mentioned all this sooner!" Hermione exclaims while slamming her book shut. "I'm sorry I didn't realize I was acting so -"
"No, it's okay!" Harry can practically feel the guilt emanating from her. "Please don't worry about that. Let's just focus on the real issue – really – I'm okay, Hermione." He awkwardly pats her back when she hugs him unexpectedly.
"Well, alright - we know that one of the Death Eaters was named Rook. The Ministry doesn't have any information on that name, so I'm thinking we have to look elsewhere; maybe ask an ex-Death Eater?" Harry attempts to ask nonchalantly.
"The only ex-Death Eater who isn't locked up is Malfoy, and you already tried talking to him," Ron says flatly.
"Yes, and the more I think about it, the more I feel he's hiding something!" he begins to say, but is interrupted by a groan and an exasperated sigh. "What? I was right that other dozen times I said it!"
"Well, good luck getting anything out of him," Ron exclaims. "He's the last person who'd want to help you."
"I know, but what choice do I have?" Harry asks with a frown. Harry ducks his head in contemplation, his fingers absently picking at the spine of his Potion textbook. "Sometimes I worry I'll be stuck like this. I don't – I can't imagine it …I know it's silly but-"
"It's not silly at all," Hermione says softly. She seems to hesitate with her next words. "Until we find Rook, there's something I wanted to show you, something that could help in the meanwhile. It'll make this whole experience a little less ordeal." Hermione has been persistently asking Harry to try new things to help with his lack of sight. Harry tried being patient with these suggestions, but when she mentioned a muggle walking cane, he rudely dismissed the idea as being embarrassing and attention-seeking. The non-muggleborn students probably have never seen those things before and Harry wasn't going to be the one to educate them.
Harry knows he exerts far too much effort on not being the center of attention. But after months of reporters interrogating him, fans stalking him and tabloids broadcasting all his activity, he feels justified in his desire for anonymity. "What is it?" he asks suspiciously, hoping for something subtle.
"It's a potion that acts like a compass, but more for your intentions! So instead of using your vision to navigate, you rely on your intuition to direct you."
"My intuition?" Harry asks doubtfully.
"Yes. You don't see where you want to go; rather you feel where you want to go."
"Can I turn it off if I want to?"
"It wears out in time," she says hurriedly. "Do you want to give it a try?"
Harry shrugs. "Alright – doesn't seem like it'd hurt."
"Great! Here, you have to drink this." Hermione pulls out a small vial and places it in Harry's hand. "I made this for you yesterday. It's called Cor Videt, or more commonly known as Heart's Content. After you drink this, you have to say these words: Oculis videre non possum, cum videam mea cor."
"Sounds simple enough," he says with light sarcasm as he unscrews the vial and takes a hesitant sniff. "It smells sort of good, doesn't it?"
"It changes according to what's on your mind," Hermione says.
"What does it smell like?" Ron asks.
"Like leaves? Or the fall. Oh, and … something odd." It smells familiar but he can't place it. Shrugging, he brings the vial to his lips and shoots the entire contents into his mouth. He's pleasantly surprised when it tastes like bitter tea.
"Oculis videre non possum, cum videam mea cor," Hermione reminds him.
Harry focuses on each word as he repeats the phrase with intention. But when he utters the last syllable, nothing seems to change. He expected some sort of tugging sensation or something, but all that he feels is restless. "I don't think this worked, Hermione."
"I'm sure it just takes some time."
"Maybe," Harry says doubtfully.
Sitting contentedly between his two friends, he listens to them discuss their classes and evening plans. He finds his thoughts floating away from him, and unconsciously begins to gather up his books, preparing to leave.
"Where are you going?" Hermione asks.
"I'm going to try to find Ginny. See you later!" Harry turns away to leave the library before he can think twice about why he just lied to his friends.
Harry's not sure where he's headed, but he feels a walk is the best thing to clear his head right now. The thought of going to the kitchens to grab a bite also seems tempting. But before he can turn the corner that leads to the stairway, he hears curt voices arguing.
"Harassing girls now? I must say that rather unimpressive," Harry hears a familiar drawl.
Another voice laughs in mock surprise, "have you come to fight me, Malfoy? We both know how that'll turn out. It would be smart of you to get out of my way."
"I guess I'm just as stupid as you then, because I'm not leaving." Harry is confused by this bold statement. Why would Malfoy purposely put himself in that predicament? Never before has Harry seen Malfoy look out for anyone but himself.
"Of course you would defend her; birds of a feather and all."
Malfoy's tone is now laced with frosty impatience, "are you always this dim-witted? Or are you just making a special effort today? This Hufflepuff could never be a Death Eater – it literally wasn't allowed."
"I know exactly who she is! Her family-"
At this point, Harry steps out to intervene, but that doesn't stop Malfoy from sneering coldly, "You know nothing. But I wouldn't expect anything less from a Mudblood."
Harry can hear Greenberg move towards Malfoy menacingly, his quick steps heavy with purpose. But before Greenberg can do something stupid, Harry calls him out, "just let it go! He's not worth it." He hears Greenberg hesitate now, breathing somewhat heavily. There is an awkward pause in which Harry idly stands by, waiting for something to happen. There wouldn't be much he could do if a fight did break out.
At last, Greenberg walks close to Malfoy and whispers to him in a low voice that Harry would not normally be able to hear, "the next time you see me, you'll regret it." He steps away without another word.
When Harry is sure that he is out of earshot, he turns angrily towards Malfoy, "was that really necessary?"
"He backed off, didn't he?" He then turns towards the Hufflepuff girl and Harry is surprised to hear something like concern in his voice, "if he bothers you again, let me know…" But Malfoy's words begin to trail off as she walks towards Harry.
"How could I thank you?" asks a quiet, eager voice.
"Well, I didn't really do anything…" Harry says with embarrassment.
"You were so brave to defend me! I never would have expected you to - because - well, my aunt and uncle…" the girl's excitement quickly dies off at the mention of her family.
"Who were they?" he asks gently.
"The Lestranges," she says very quietly.
"Oh." Harry searches for words of encouragement, but he can't help but feel slightly uncomfortable. "It's too bad we don't get to choose our families."
"That's true. But at least my parents weren't involved."
"Astoria, don't you have classes to get to?" Malfoy asks curtly.
"Oh, yes! I'm already late. See you later, Draco." She then adds shyly, "you too, Harry."
Malfoy snorts and turns to leave the corridor in the opposite direction. "Typical," he mumbles under his breath.
"What is?" Harry falls in step with him.
"The only thing you did was remind him of my worthlessness. I was going to take a brutal beating, and not a single thank you! It's like I wasn't even there!"
"I think you definitely made yourself known, at the very least to Greenberg."
Malfoy laughs sourly at that, "the evil 'M' word works like a charm. It's quite pathetic how angry he gets every single time."
"I don't understand why you would purposely put yourself in that situation. You know perfectly well why that word is so hateful," Harry says coldly.
"Just a word, Potter."
"How can you even bear to say it, after everything that has happened?" Harry asks with forced calmness.
"Sometimes getting your opponent angry is your only defense."
Harry sighs in exasperation at that. "He doesn't have to be your 'opponent'. Maybe if you stopped calling him a Mudblood all the time, he would hate you a little less."
"Doubtful."
Harry is having a hard time keeping up with Malfoy's quick, long strides. Usually, this wouldn't be a problem, but now his pace is awkward from his careful movements. "Look, from what I've heard, he's been through a lot this past year -"
"Yes, yes, his family was murdered," Malfoy says dismissively.
"By Death Eaters!" The little control Harry had over his anger finally snaps. "By your family, and I wouldn't be surprised if you joined in on the fun!"
Malfoy stops so suddenly that Harry nearly crashes into him. He turns towards Harry directly, so that his words, that were so curt and so cold a moment ago, are now tumbling out of him uncontrollably, right into Harry's face. "Right again, Potter! I had so much fun burning villages and watching people die!" He lets out a boisterous, deranged laugh. "How I miss those glory days! If only you didn't put a stop to it all. I would still be basking in the torture and humiliation. Oh, but don't forget fear! There's nothing better than fearing for your life – nothing better than fearing for your god damned soul!"
Malfoy abruptly stops shouting, and from what Harry can tell, stops breathing. Harry is very aware of Malfoy being too close for comfort. He takes a hesitant step backwards, unsure of what to do with this horrible honesty. But then a flicker of a something passes over his eyes, the same that he's seen once in the Great Hall, and all he can do is stare into darkness.
Malfoy begins to silently turn away from him, but Harry grabs his arm. He tries desperately to hold onto the shadow that he just saw. He knows instinctively that he can't let Malfoy leave, so he blurts out the first thing that comes to mind, "why do you act like you don't care, when you do?"
Maybe Malfoy is too horrified to realize what he's saying, but for once he gives Harry a straight answer, "to keep the memories away." With that, he impatiently snatches his arm free and walks away briskly, leaving Harry standing alone in the middle of a corridor for a second time.
Sleep is not his friend. Sleep always makes him relive the fear, makes him remember.
Everything is on fire. Everyone is screaming. He wants it all to stop, but he's the reason it started. His throat is dry with ashes, but still he stands before them with his wand held out high and an incantation on his lips. He lives while they all die, but he cannot falter, not while his father is watching. His father always told him that greatness does not come cheaply. But his father never told him the ugliness of it all. His father never told him that the price was his soul.
Only the mask he wears protects him now. If the snake could see his face, surely he would know that the boy doesn't belong, that he is only pretending. He has to pretend to love the smell of blood and the bitter taste of guilt. He has to pretend to love their pain in order to survive. He hopes his mask doesn't slip or he will surely die.
But maybe he isn't pretending anymore. He can't tell the difference between this misanthropy and his self-loathing. He's worn the mask for so long that he can't take it off. He can't tell where the Death Eater stops and the boy begins. Maybe the boy doesn't exist anymore. Maybe he's already dead. And it's this last thought that makes him quiver as the world tears itself apart.
Harry awakes with a name on his lips, but as he opens his eyes it's already gone. With one hand, he reaches unconsciously for his glasses at the night stand, while simultaneously trying to rub the darkness out of his eyes. He doesn't understand why it's so dark, even this early in the morning. And then he remembers that he can't see.
He sits numbly on his bed, his hand still outstretched in mid-motion. How could he have forgotten? That doesn't seem at all possible, until he realizes that he had been dreaming vividly. Harry tries to recollect the dream that doesn't seem like his own. The flashes make little sense to him, but he definitely remembers loss and defeat. A sense of dread begins to settle in Harry's stomach, the same when something's wrong. Without hesitation, Harry gets silently out of bed. The others are fast asleep, which makes it very easy for Harry to sneak out unnoticed.
Once past the portrait hole, Harry allows his feet to lead the way and climb what seems like endless stairs, until he realizes that there's only one part of the castle that's this high up. He's avoided the Astronomy Tower since Dumbledore died.
Walking away from the warmth of indoors, Harry can fully appreciate how cold it is outside. The wind whistles around him, biting his face and flapping his cloak loudly.
"What are you doing here?" Malfoy calls out from in front of him, making Harry jump slightly.
"Needed some air," Harry replies awkwardly.
Malfoy doesn't say anything in turn, seeming to ignore him. Harry begins to turn back around to leave, but a question escapes his lips, "why are you here? I would think that you'd avoid this place." He wraps his robes around him tighter as the wind begins to pick up.
"I guess I like the view." Malfoy's tone is so far away.
"Oh." Harry's uneasiness intensified as silence falls between them.
"If you don't mind, Potter, I'd like to be alone," Malfoy says absently.
That's when Harry notices that Malfoy's voice isn't only coming from in front of him - it's also coming from above him. The only landing Harry can remember being above ground level is the ledge, the one in place so that people don't accidentally fall to their deaths. A gust of wind passes by them and Harry hears Malfoy actually laugh.
"What are you doing?" Harry shrieks at his general direction.
"Not your concern. Go away."
"Come down from there! Are you crazy?!"
"Piss off, Potter. I'm enjoying the view!"
Harry's heart starts to beat unpleasantly fast. He quickly climbs onto the ledge, careful to stay low to the ground. "You'll kill yourself!"
"Just - Stop!" he says when Harry edges closer. "Don't take another step forward."
Something about his tone makes Harry stop in his tracks. "Okay!" He shoves his hand nervously through his hair, trying to keep his thoughts straight. "Why – What's so special about - the view?"
"You can stop pretending to care."
"I do!" Harry insists.
Harry waits for him to explain, but all he hears is the wind urging Malfoy to jump.
Silence stretches between them again, and Harry's tempted to just jump and grab him, but he's afraid he might accidentally kill them both. "It's beautiful," Malfoy says at last, his voice barely above a whisper. "Being this close to it, it makes you feel above it all."
"Um, alright. But why come back here? This specific tower." Harry isn't sure what he should say, but he knows he should keep him talking.
"I don't really know. Maybe I'm looking for something I lost when I killed the Old Man."
"But you didn't!" Malfoy scoffs at that. "You may have planned for it, but you couldn't do it."
"You don't have to lie for my sake, Potter. I thought you were better than that."
"I'm not lying! Everything I said at the trial was true." Malfoy doesn't respond, so Harry hurriedly continues. "I know what I saw that night, even if you couldn't see it." Harry edges closer, extending his hand out for the Slytherin to take; knowing somehow how far is far enough. "If you let me, I'll tell you what I saw." Malfoy doesn't make a move. "Come on, Malfoy, take my bloody hand!" he says a little desperately, his hand still outstretched.
"Well, if you're going to beg…" Harry finally feels a cool hand fall onto his hesitantly. Squeezing his hand, Harry makes sure he has a tight hold of him as he begins to pull Malfoy to safety. But a sudden gust of wind causes Malfoy to lose his balance and slip. Both of them scream as Malfoy falls over the edge, his weight pulling Harry inches closer to their doom.
Malfoy is dangling from one of Harry arms, holding onto his hand for dear life. "Pull me up!"
"I'm trying!" But if he stands up, Malfoy's weight might take them both over.
"Don't let me go!" Malfoy yells.
"I won't – but you need to climb!" Harry manages between breathes.
"Fuck! I'm going to die!" he cries out, "an ugly death!"
"Shut up! I've got you." Harry uses his back to pull up Malfoy's left side, so that Malfoy can get his elbow up on the ledge. "Push yourself up!"
Malfoy scrapes his shoes against the Astronomy tower, pushing himself up bit by bit. He finally manages to get one knee up, which safely allows Harry to pull Malfoy back all the way. They stumble backwards onto the cold ground and Malfoy falls on top of Harry, knocking the air out of his lungs.
Both of them struggle to breathe as they are temporarily paralyzed with shock. As the seconds pass, Harry becomes acutely aware of how odd this must look: Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy practically locked in an embrace, both breathless and sweaty, and Malfoy pinning Harry down with his weight.
"Er…" he mumbles into the Slytherin's face.
"You fucking idiot." Malfoy gasps in between breaths. "You could have killed me!"
"What?" Harry asks incredulously.
Malfoy rolls off Harry. "What is your problem, Potter?" he lashes out while attempting to get up gracefully.
"I was trying to save your life! You were - it seemed like you were-"
"Like I was going to jump?"
"Weren't you…?" Harry asks in a small voice.
"Potter, you need to talk to someone about your insatiable need to be the Hero." With that, Malfoy stands up and walks back into the warmth of the castle, leaving behind a very confused and horrified Gryffindor for a third time. It's at this moment that Harry vows that he will never let Draco Malfoy walk away from him ever again.
