Everyone's gotten the warning by now right? So I can stop posting it? 'Cause this is the last time I'm mentioning a warning.
Also though I should mention for the sake of anyone deluded enough to think that I'm JK Rowling that hey, I'm not, everything belongs to her, not me.
Author's note: I'm updating really fast because I have up to chapter 5 already written, and I'm really bored at the moment. I also added chapter 10 to Unexpected savior, if anyone's been reading that.
Once they'd reached Harry's rooms, Pettigrew was politely escorted out. (Okay, okay, so Harry threatened him. It was basically the same thing, among the Death Eaters.)
Before Draco could ask any questions, Harry came up behind him and wrapped his arms around Draco's waist. "Charms are one of your wandlesses, right?" he whispered.
Opening his mouth to ask how the hell Blackwell knew that when not even Voldemort knew it, Draco was shocked to feel a warm hand covering his mouth.
"I need you to cast a Silencing Charm," Harry continued, trying not to move. Or breathe. Gods, his chest hurt.
After casting the spell, Draco, annoyed at still having his mouth covered, jabbed his left arm backwards, and stumbled as Harry jumped back with a soft hiss of pain.
Harry's vision swam as he blindly reached a hand out for balance. There was nothing to grab onto and he fell, head slamming back against the stone floor.
What the bloody hell do I do now? Draco asked himself as he stared at the unconscious form of his so-called master.
At least the Silencing Charm had been cast, so no one would have heard Blackwell fall. For a second, he considered running, but knew any escape attempts would be futile. He couldn't Apparate from inside the manor, couldn't get out without getting both himself and Blackwell killed. Not to mention the fact that he was basically burned out.
No, any chance of getting out required a living Death Eater. He looked down again, and suddenly wondered if Blackwell was still alive. The fall had been pretty hard, after all.
He knelt, extremely grateful for the spell, whatever it had been. Maybe he was doing more damage to himself by not being able to feel, but he couldn't bring himself to care. Putting a few broken fingers to the black-haired boy's throat, Draco didn't see him stir.
Before he could blink a wand was at his throat as a deadly voice asked, "What do you think you're doing?"
"Making sure your clumsiness didn't kill you," came the biting reply. Draco instantly cursed himself, waiting for a blow, surprised when instead he heard a soft chuckle.
"So they haven't broken you yet. I wondered." Harry tried to sit up, yelling, "Fuck!" as he was reminded unpleasantly of his ribs. "Malfoy, get my pack."
Draco looked pissed at being ordered around, but obeyed with protest. Better not to get beaten for stubbornness. "Yes master," he muttered sarcastically as he searched the pack. Finding it in the bedroom on a night table, he picked it up gingerly with his left hand and went back to Blackwell, dropping it unceremoniously next to his head.
"Be careful!" Harry yelped, hoping Snape's unbreakable jars really were unbreakable. I think I'll Avada Malfoy if they aren't. The idea of killing the blonde boy wasn't as comforting as it would have been at Hogwarts. He's my only ally here, where I'm surrounded by those who would happily kill me if they knew who I was.
Raising his head, he rifled through the bag's contents, finally pulling out a vial of what looked like liquid diamonds and cost ten times more.
"Phoenix tears," Draco breathed. "Where'd you get those?"
"Stole them," Harry answered shortly. He pulled up his robes as far as he could, suddenly thankful that he hadn't bothered with a shirt underneath. He spilled a few drops onto his chest and felt the spreading warmth that meant he'd be able to breathe normally again.
"What happened to you?" He doesn't even wear a shirt under his robes, he's a thief . . . not bad looking, though. For a torturer.
Re-corking the bottle, he sat up as he answered, "Voldemort saw fit to Crucio me until I nearly passed out for not being submissive enough. Bloody bastard."
Draco's eyes widened. So, Blackwell doesn't respect the Dark Lord, or at least isn't as brainwashed as the rest of these fools. Maybe he'll get me out. "You should be more careful about what you say," he warned.
Nodding, Harry asked his own question. "They caught you Wednesday?" He put the phoenix tears away and saw Malfoy's eyes follow them longingly.
Realizing what he was doing, Draco met Blackwell's eyes as he answered, "Yeah."
"There wasn't a Death Eater meeting Wednesday night." Harry reached for Malfoy's left hand, the one with the broken fingers.
Jerking back, Draco asked suspiciously, "How do you know?"
"Because I ha-" Harry stopped abruptly. "Because I hear things." He'd nearly said 'because I had detention with Snape.' Of all the stupid ways to blow his cover . . . Malfoy couldn't be trusted, because Malfoy got himself caught. Take no unnecessary risks.
Oh, who am I kidding? He asked himself. The whole thing is an unnecessary risk. Sighing, he commanded Malfoy, "Give me your hand."
Draco just looked at him. Bad enough to be tortured, he wasn't going to give himself up willingly.
"I'm a wandless healer," Harry said softly. "I can fix that."
"You're nearly burned out," Draco retorted. "You can't fix anything." Don't let him get any closer, he told himself. Run if he does.
But as he'd already decided, running wouldn't help; he'd only be beaten worse. If that was possible.
"You don't trust me," Harry said, sounding surprised. Everybody trusts me. No, he corrected himself, everybody trusts the Boy-Who-Lived, not Adrian Blackwell. The thought made him surprisingly calm, as though he'd needed to be reassured that the glamour was working. "I don't suppose you should." He grabbed the bottle of phoenix tears again and motioned to the blonde. "Come here."
Draco approached cautiously, ready to run. Blackwell was holding out a hand and reluctantly, the Slytherin placed his left hand in it. He was watching the other boy, watching his eyes. Pull back when they change from serious to mocking, be ready . . . his whole body was tense, prepared for flight.
He looked down, startled as he felt warmth seeping into his hand. The phoenix tears. Blackwell had actually used them.
Harry smiled lightly as he saw the shock in the other's eyes. "Look, I really am a wandless healer. Voldemort will know if we use wands, though."
"We?" Draco asked dryly. "You don't actually believe they let me keep my wand, do you?"
"Oh, yeah. Does your Silencing Charm cover all of the rooms?" Harry asked as he searched for the wand he'd bought for Malfoy.
"Yeah. But I'm nearly burned out now." Draco's eyes narrowed as he watched Blackwell rifle through his possessions yet again. Was it going to be weapons this time?
"Is there any other way the Death Eaters can spy on us, besides listening at the door?" Harry asked as he pulled out the box containing the other wand.
"No, the room is protected with privacy spells," Draco answered, studying the box Blackwell had pulled out. Too thin to be a knife, and the box looks familiar . . .
"Good. Here." Harry held the box out, snatching it back at the last second. "But only if you'll let me heal you."
"I don't even know what the bloody thing is!" he complained. Seeing the stubborn look in the other boy's eyes, a look that was strangely familiar, he relented. "Fine."
Opening the box, Harry pulled out the dark wand, handing it over as he said, "It's yours, Ollivander knew your other one was going to be broken. 11 inch willow, unicorn hair, phoenix feather, dragon heartstring."
Awed, Draco slowly took the wand, expecting to wake up at any second. Please don't let this be a dream. Not really listening to what Blackwell was saying, he raised the wand as he informed him, "I could kill you now."
"You could," Harry began. In less than a second, his wand was at the blonde's throat. "But I wouldn't advise it."
Nodding, Draco shoved the wand into his robes, grimacing as he looked down at himself. He still didn't trust Blackwell, but things were beginning to look up. "I'm supposed to be dead by nightfall," he said conversationally.
"I know," Harry replied. "Now, you have to let me heal you. There's no chance of saving you in this condition. Take off your robes."
Saving me? I'm not a bloody damsel in distress! But he said nothing as he tried to remove his robes. Tried being the key word. The numbness was wearing off, and the blood on his robes had dried to his skin. After struggling for a few minutes while Blackwell watched silently, he finally admitted, "I can't get them off."
"I know," Harry answered. He'd been waiting for Malfoy to ask for help, knowing the arrogant teen would only be offended if he offered. "Here, come with me into the bathroom. It might help if they're wet."
Obediently Draco followed, each second bringing more pain as the spell wore completely off. Ow. Ow. Ow! Damn it, why couldn't Blackwell cast a longer lasting spell?
The bathroom was fairly nice, marble floors kept warm by a spell, a large shower and even larger bathtub. Harry didn't bother studying it, instead going straight to the shower and turning it on. The water was instantly hot, and he motioned to Malfoy, who winced as he limped over.
"What's wrong with your leg?"
"No idea. I lost track of what they did to me after the first night," Draco answered. His voice was blank, as though he wasn't talking about being tortured.
"Are you going to be able to stand?"
"I'll live." He climbed into the shower, letting out a choked scream and jumping back out as the water hit his face. I don't know how I forgot about that.
"Here, let me heal your cheek."
Draco limped over, looking at him curiously. He'd never been healed by someone without a wand. It'd better not hurt. Not that it could be worse than what the rest of them have done to me.
"Hold still," Harry ordered. Then he raised a hand to the blonde's cheek, not quite touching him.
The magic washed through Draco, feeling warm and soft, but most of all, comforting. He'd never been one for physical contact, but for nearly a week, the only physical contact he'd had was torture, and this was definitely better. I wonder if I've gone mad. Or perhaps I'm dead. Prisoners of Voldemort don't get rescued. They get killed. Painfully.
As the wound sealed completely, Harry moved his hand closer, pressing his palm into the blonde's cheek, watching as Malfoy's eyes fell closed. Soft skin. Surprisingly warm. Malfoy always looked so cold. Doesn't matter, don't even think about it. What about Ginny? He pulled away quickly, masking his emotions as Malfoy looked up in surprise.
Anger, guilt, sadness. Wonder what his story is? And why the bloody hell he's a Death Eater. "Thanks," Draco said quietly, turning and limping back to the shower. The water helped a bit, but not as much as he'd hoped. Finally he just tore it up the seams and pulled it off, doing the same with the thin black t-shirt he'd had on underneath.
He stepped back out after turning off the water. It stung, and most of the cuts were bleeding again.
Harry hissed as he saw Malfoy's back. Or what was left of it. Welts, obviously left by a whip, covered most of it. Many of them had deep cuts at the end, as though the whip had been barbed. Shivers ran down his spine as he felt phantom pain. They haven't changed their methods much.
His chest wasn't much better. The wounds were fewer, but they'd been burned on. It looked like a pattern of some kind . . . with dawning horror, Harry realized it was letters. They'd burned the word "traitor" into his skin, running down his chest.
"It looks worse than it is." But not by much. For some reason, Draco felt the need to reassure the boy, to get rid of the haunted look in his eyes.
"It doesn't. I remember." It was real now. It had always been dangerous, but Harry was used to playing hero. Standing in front of him, though, was someone who had done more than he ever did, and would never get recognition for it. If we win, people will glare at him on the street because he's a Malfoy, and he bears the Dark Mark. And if we lose . . . The thought didn't need to be finished, and he hated even having to think it. Before last summer, it had always been definite, they would win this war, because Light always triumphed over Dark. Now . . . well, nothing was definite anymore.
"Come into the bedroom," he said, voice thick. "I'll heal you there. We'll need the phoenix tears." He turned and walked out, leaving Malfoy to stare after him, wondering again how the hell the blue-eyed boy had become a Death Eater.
The bedroom was sparsely furnished, but obviously expensive. Black silk sheets on a canopied and curtained bed. Two arm chairs, one dark green and the other dark blue, sat facing a large fireplace, though there wasn't a fire burning. A large, cushioned window seat took up one wall, large enough to sleep on with a black pillow at either end.
Draco walked in, studying the single bed with a slight amount of trepidation. He was beginning to think Blackwell was trustworthy, but still . . . he was a Death Eater. And what had he said earlier? "What exactly do you remember?"
"Come sit on the window," Harry said, the opened vial of phoenix tears in one hand.
Draco had to turn his head to see him. It would be nice to be able to see out of both eyes again. Still limping, he made his way to the padded windowsill and knelt with his back to Blackwell. "So, what happened?"
Harry poured some of the phoenix tears onto the blonde's back as he answered, "I've been tortured by them before. Spent a few days in St.Mungo's, being treated for things phoenix tears couldn't fix." The wounds began to close, until all that was left were traces of dried blood. "Turn around; I'll heal your eye myself. Better not to waste the tears, I don't have a whole lot."
Draco complied, facing Blackwell. They were close, close enough for him to see the silver and green flecks in Blackwell's eyes. Green eyes. . . no! Don't think about him, don't. "By who?"
Harry held his hand up to Malfoy's eye, pressing slightly. He felt the magic flow through him again, but he was running low. I can't burn out, not here. "You're probably going to feel kind of tired," he warned.
As if on cue, Draco yawned.
Ignoring the question he'd been asked, hoping the Slytherin would forget, he asked, "How long has it been since you've eaten? You look half-dead."
"Thanks," Draco replied sarcastically. "You look wonderful yourself." He yawned again, and catching Blackwell's serious look, sighed and said, "They gave me a piece of bread and a glass of water Thursday, Friday, and Saturday. I lost weight because they've been draining my magic to the point it's feeding off my body just to keep me alive."
"I'll try to get us some food." He studied the burns on Malfoy's chest, asking himself, How should I do this? Phoenix tears will heal it, but they might scar, and he doesn't deserve that. He was faintly surprised to find that he actually cared. It doesn't mean anything, just that he's the only person I trust here, and he's been through so much. The same things as me, but his father gave him up. That makes it so much worse. "Umm, this will actually be easiest if you lay on the bed."
Draco nodded and tried to stand. Since the pain he'd grown accustomed to was now gone, his leg seemed to have grown worse, and he stumbled, almost immediately caught by Blackwell.
Gently, Harry lifted Malfoy into his arms, unhappy with how easy it was. How exhausted must he be to allow himself to be carried? Laying him on the bed, Harry went back and picked up the phoenix tears, now nearly empty.
Draco's eyes drifted closed as his head rested on the soft pillow. Soft, warm,
safe. . . his eyes flew open at the last thought. He wasn't safe here, no matter what Blackwell did. He was in the care of a Death Eater, and would do well to remember it.
After healing the blonde's leg himself, Harry gingerly dripped some of the phoenix tears onto his hand and then rubbed them onto Malfoy's right arm.
He hissed at the strange sensation. It hurt, but only for a split second, and then the healing warmth was spreading, and the softness of Blackwell's touch on his arm. Yawning again, he let his head fall back onto the pillow, let his eyes fall closed. Not sleeping, he assured himself, just resting. Within seconds his deep, even breathing signaled sleep.
Looking down on his sleeping rival, Harry was surprised to see Malfoy look so. . . defenseless. There was no arrogance, no mocking sneer, no defensiveness, not even the blankness that was as much a mask as the rest. He seemed peaceful, and for the first time, Harry saw him as just another seventeen year old, like him, who'd seen too much.
With a start, he realized that he didn't hate the other boy, couldn't hate him after this. Think about it later. Heal him now, before you collapse, he ordered himself. He yawned, and decided to just pour the last of the phoenix tears across Malfoy's chest.
Draco shivered slightly, then fell still again. The letters branding his chest were healed, but not fully. If nothing else was done, there would be faint scars, a lifelong reminder.
Harry sighed. It was what he'd been afraid of. I can do this, he assured himself, but truthfully, he wasn't sure. Without the shields in place he'd be fine, but now . . . he was already so close to being burned out.
Placing both of his hands just above Draco's chest, Harry pulled the magic from inside himself and began healing. One letter gone. Two, three, four. Spots were dancing in front of his eyes, but he needed to do this. There, the second 't' was gone, and the 'o'. His breath was coming in harsh gasps, his vision almost completely black. As the last letter faded from Malfoy's chest, Harry collapsed on top of him, unconscious.
After the announcement at supper all students made their way back to their common rooms, most in a bit of shock. Not being close to Harry and all of his near-death experiences, the fact that he needed to go into hiding startled and scared most of them.
Hermione was seething at the fact that Dumbledore had done and apparently would do nothing at all.
"Then we'll do it ourselves," Ron said determinedly.
She nodded, hoping Ron couldn't see the hopelessness she felt. With a smile that didn't reach her eyes, she said, "I'll go to the library tomorrow." I'll put everything I've got into saving him. But a part of her couldn't get over how much the note had sounded like a last goodbye. Will we ever see him again?
So, Thank Yous to:
Lyla Hayden: Do you think my boss would accept "I was being threatened with sharp objects and had to stay home and write fanfic" as an excuse? I didn't think so either. Too bad.
Arlaikeeno: Hopefully I spelled that right. Thanks!
spunky slytherin: I know you've been reviewing my other fic too, so thanks for sticking with me! I didn't want either of them raped because, though I have it in my other fic, it isn't actually likely to happen, even in this situation.
Sak: So, I answered a few questions, but there will be a new twist, probably chapter 6 or 7. Hope you like it, and thanks for reviewing!
Also to Sayiera, Ravenfrog, and LadyFortune. I love all of you guys!